


The Way You Look

by BlanketOfDeath, im95notdead



Series: The 1940s [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1948, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gun Violence, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Irish Language, Irish Mob, Irish Sarah Rogers, Irish Steve Rogers, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Language, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Russian Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers should adopt us all, mafia au 1940s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-07-11 21:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 118,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlanketOfDeath/pseuds/BlanketOfDeath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/im95notdead/pseuds/im95notdead
Summary: The year is 1948 and Steve Rogers is one of the most powerful and most feared men in Brooklyn as well as leader of the Irish mob. When he realizes he's being cheated out of his protection money, he decides it's time to do things himself. He walks into Howard Stark's deli, a stop on his route, and there he meets his eldest son, Tony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just some heads-ups: 
> 
> Bucky is James Romanov  
> Tony is Antonio Edward Stark  
> Peter Parker is Tony's little brother and his name is Peter Beniamino Stark or "Benni"
> 
> The title was inspired by "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra

“Cap,” Dugan said, knocking lightly on the door before sticking his head around, “there’s someone here liked to see ya.” 

“It had better be a dame or a bag of money. You know right now’s my me time,” he said, his voice low and threatening. No one was ever allowed to visit him during his personal time. He put away what he was working on and leaned back, waiting for an explanation. 

“It’s that kid you wanted to see,” he explained. Cap nodded, a grim smile on his face and opened his drawer. There she was, old faithful—his semi-automatic pistol. He motioned for him to come in and Dugan moved back enough to put a hand on the kid’s back and shove him in. 

“M-mr Rogers, uh, sir, I ain’t mean no—” Cap raised a hand and the kid instantly fell silent. 

“Just trying to provide, huh?” 

“Uh, y-yes, sir. My ma is poorly and my sister’s been out of work since she got TB.”

“And how did you pay off your gambling debts?”

“G-gambling debts, sir?”

“I know you’ve done your fair share of stutterin’ since coming in here but I haven’t. You heard me,” Cap said, circling his chair, standing behind him now, his hand tight on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t take lightly to stealin’. I don’t take lightly to much anything but especially not stealin’. Now providin’ for your family I can maybe turn a blind eye to _once_. But using _my money_ to pay for _your_ _mistakes_? And to a rival at that… Now, lad, I can’t just look the other way.” The kid was quivering under Cap’s grasp.

Cap let go and went back to his seat, sitting slowly, taking his time about it while the kid tried to figure out the best way of getting out of there alive.

Cap picked up the gun on his desk and the kid audibly gasped. He cleaned it off with a rag, checked to make sure it was loaded and then pointed it at him casually.

“You think I oughtta pull the trigger?” He asked, his blue eyes hard, unwavering. The kid didn’t speak. “Come on, one last chance to plead your case. Nothing?”

“Sir, I—” Cap pulled the trigger. A moment later Dugan and Falseworth came in and dragged him out. Jones came in afterwards to do cleanup. Cap cleaned his gun again and put it away, closing the drawer. He stood, checking his pocket watch. It was about time for his weekly drink.

“Cap,” Jones called as he turned to leave. He stopped in the doorway. “Might want to change your tie.” He looked down, it was sprinkled with blood. Cap winked at Jones and headed out.

“What’s that?” Cap asked, sipping his drink and eyeing the neck of his companion. There was a bruise. “I don’t believe someone got a lick in on _you_.”

He chuckled. “Oh no, of course not.” His accent was thick. Russian, unlike Cap’s Irish-American drawl. “Just an advantageous young recruit looking to move up.” He smirked and Cap chuckled.

“Will they?”

“Maybe,” he said, knocking back his vodka shot and as soon as the glass touched the counter it was being refilled. When Cap’s Jameson got low, it too was refilled without asking. “Maybe not.”

“Oh, come on, Winter, at least make an honest woman of her for her… _efforts_. Make her a leader,” Cap said, a hand on his back.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “We will see if _he_ deserves it.” Now Cap raised an eyebrow. 

“Hm, hope he does.” They were good friends, went way back, but this was the mob and ears were everywhere. Not all their men could be trusted entirely. Especially not when one of these men ran the Russian mob and the other the Irish. “Let’s drink to it. _Sláinte_.”

Winter raised his glass. “ _Za druzhbu_.”

One of Winter’s men approached him and whispered in his ear. Winter sighed and cracked his knuckles, finishing his drink. He turned to Cap, a hand on his shoulder and a sincere smile on his face. Cap matched it.

“Sadly, I have to cut this short,” he told him. “Insubordination never sleeps.”

“No, it does not,” he agreed bitterly. “It was good catching up, James.” Winter turned at the sound of his name, a curious expression on his face.

“Steve,” he said with a nod, leaving.

“Cap, you sure? I mean you ain’t never really… made an appearance at these things. It’s beneath ya,” Dugan told him as Steve buttoned his vest. He grabbed a hat off his rack and put it on, tilting it over his eye and he spun around, arms spread, a wicked grin on his face. 

“How do I look?”

“Like you could pop someone and they’d thank you,” Dugan laughed. Cap’s grin widened and he walked over to his friend, patting his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to think this in any way reflects on you, Dugan, there’s just been so much short-changing as of late that I think a reminder of who exactly they’re robbin’ might do these wiseguys some good.” Dugan nodded; he couldn’t argue with that. They had been gypped a lot lately and that either meant that lackies were stealing or protectees weren’t paying up.

+

“Edward!” Howard barked entering the kitchen in the store while Tony was topping up containers of olives. “You _will_ respond when I call you!” Howard turned his son around forcefully, making him drop a few olives. “What did I tell you about wasting food?” he yelled and Tony was quick to pick up the olives and run them under water to clean them off properly.

“I will react when you call me by my name,” Tony said as he dried the olives and put them in the container with the others. He didn’t even see his father raising his hand to hit him, barely even felt the strike across his cheek from being way too tired and used to the physical abuse. All he felt was his cheek warming up and a slight stinging.

“The Irish are coming. Their boss is with them. Fix up the best sides and sandwiches! Quick!” With that Howard left Tony in the kitchen. Had another week passed already? Their so-called protectors had come picking up the protection money a few days ago. Or was time blurring again?

Two large plates with appetizers and two plates with small sandwiches were placed on the counter next to the register a few minutes later and Tony moved to fix up some coffee when he heard Howard speaking in his customer-friendly voice, inviting them in. Tony quickly brought the can with fresh coffee to the front and saw the small group of men standing around the counter, trying some appetizers while Howard explained to them what they were eating. He got at least two wrong but Tony wouldn’t dare to correct him in front of the Irish. Instead he filled cups with coffee and offered them to the men.

Two he had seen before. They had been nice enough considering who they were. However, there was a man putting his hat down on a table and watching Tony with a fixed gaze and suddenly Tony was painfully aware of the stains on his shirt and apron, how one sleeve was rolled up while the other wasn’t, and let’s not get started on the messiness of his hair. That tall man was everything Tony wasn’t. His skin glowing, his suit immaculate, his posture perfect and strong, his eyes clear like the sunniest summer sky.

“Edward! Get out of here!” Howard said sharply and made excuses for his son while Tony put down the cups and headed back to the kitchen. Before he left them, he turned around to look at the man who had caught his attention. From the distance Tony now noticed how pale he was. Not sickly but beautifully pale. Then he watched the man reach out for a sandwich and noticed how beautiful his hands were. Big, strong, veiny. When it seemed that the man was turning around to look at him, Tony quickly disappeared and hid against the wall next to the door frame leading to the front of the store. His heart was beating out of his chest and he just didn’t know why.

His little brother caught his attention and he brought him back upstairs to their apartment, taking a few snacks for Peter with him. Tony also used the chance to check his looks in the mirror, which he regretted deeply. He quickly combed through his hair and tried to fix it, rolling up the other sleeve as well and getting a clean apron.

Steve leaned back against the wall with his coffee, observing. It had been years since he had made rounds with Dugan and Jones. His eyes roamed the shop, taking everything in. It was a cute little place although he remembered it a few years back when it seemed… brighter? More full of life. He wondered what had happened.

He looked up towards where Stark’s son had disappeared as he reached out for a sandwich. He was very obedient, it seemed, but a fighter? Not really. Or else Steve was imagining the marks on his face. His eyes flickered to Howard as he bit into the sandwich the boy had prepared. It was good. No, it was delicious. He might have to start requesting more meals from this deli.

Steve didn’t speak; he wasn’t there for that. Just to watch and see what his men might be missing, what the less experienced underlings might be trying to get away with when he sent them out instead of his best men.

Howard seemed nervous. Good, as he should be. Steve didn’t know much about the man but his reputation for his explosive temper and drinking habits had not escaped being whispered throughout the community and all whispers eventually made it back to Steve. 

“How much did you pay last time?” Dugan asked, his arms folded over his chest, one hand reaching up to stroke his mustache as he spoke. Jones stood slightly behind him, holding a small black book with their account records in it.

“Five dollars,” he said quickly, his eyes darting to Steve and then away again. Steve was listening but it didn’t look like it from where he was peacefully eating his sandwich and drinking his coffee. And thinking more about that boy.

“And how much will you pay at the next visit?” Steve wasn’t unnecessarily cruel. He had a code and he had rules and if the rules were violated, the code dictated what must be done but he was no bully. He made his rules clear so when they were broken, there was no excuse for whining about punishment.

“Next visit?” He asked, unable to stop looking at Steve despite the fact that the man was not doing anything. His presence simply demanded respect and attention. 

“We,” Jones said, snapping his fingers to pull Howard’s attention back to him and away from Steve, “are not here to collect. Consider this a house-call.”

“So how much next time, Stark?” Dugan asked and it was very clear that he was frustrated with having to ask a second time.

“Five dollars,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat and once again turned his attention to Steve. “If you’re not here to collect then why…?” He trailed off, gesturing to the man in question.

“Why what, Stark?” Steve asked, his eyes still on his coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid and taking a sip. He looked at him then and saw him shudder. “It’s my business. I’ll do as I please.”

He put his cup down and moved closer into Howard’s space, standing a good half a foot taller than him. He looked him up and down for an uncomfortably long time. “Why? Is there something I should know?”

Howard swallowed despite how dry his throat was. “Uh, no. Not at all, Mr Rogers. Sir.” Steve gave him a controlled smile, his eyes still tight and distrustful. He patted Howard’s shoulder and Howard flinched.

“Well, good. As I’m sure you know,” he began, walking back to his spot and grabbing his hat, “I don’t take lightly to liars.” He put it back on and then asked for a bag of sandwiches to be wrapped up. “You two, get something too,” he told Dugan and Jones, and then shortly thereafter they left, on to the next place.

As they walked, going in and out of places, getting much the same reaction, Steve’s mind was elsewhere. On the Stark son. What was his name? Edward?

+

A few days later Howard stormed into the kitchen. He was obviously already drunk but sober enough to have answered the phone earlier.

“The Irish want sandwiches. Now! You’re going to deliver them.” Tony stared at his father in disgust when he smelled his breath.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked plainly. “If I have to deliver the food, you’ll need to look after Benni.” Howard shoved Tony against the wall, making sure that his head hit it forcefully enough to hurt.

“That is not his name,” his father growled and let go of Tony. “Now prepare the food! Everything needs to be perfect.”

As soon as he was gone, Tony took a deep breath and started working.

Around noon he arrived at the address that he was given. Two men were standing outside the bar in front of the door, having a smoke and at first Tony didn’t think they had anything to do with where he was going. That was until he reached the door and they stood right in front of him, making him flinch at the sudden movement.

“Edward Stark. Delivering sandwiches for Mr Dugan and Mr Rogers,” he said quickly and the men opened the door for him, telling him where he needed to go—inside and then to the kitchen and from there to the dining area, set the sandwiches down on the table in there—and so he went.

Jones was standing outside the huge doors and when he caught sight of Tony, his expression softened. He scanned him quickly and padded him down, searching for any kind of weapons. The boy flinched and Jones didn’t appreciate that reaction.

“He’s inside waiting,” he told him, keeping his voice soft and opening the door. The kid seemed a tad skittish.

Tony didn’t let the beautiful decoration and interior distract him and he went down the hall to the kitchen and from there to the dining area in the back of the living room. Two men were in the living room, sitting in complete silence. It was a beautiful and warm room, expensive looking all over. Once again Tony found himself reminded of how poorly he must look. For a moment he hesitated, not knowing which table was meant but seeing as they sat there Tony moved to the desk and set the plate with sandwiches down and started unwrapping it carefully.

“Thanks,” Dugan said, nodding up at Tony. Steve just watched, curious, his hand coming up to his chin.

When he had arranged everything as he should and was about to leave, Steve reached out and grabbed his wrist. Tony flinched strongly and Steve tasted bile in his mouth knowing that look and that reaction. His expression must not have been very pleasant either because Tony tried to pull away but Steve kept a tight hold, reaching into his suit pocket to put a small roll of cash into Tony’s hand.

“Thank you, Edward.” Tony looked disgusted and Steve arched a questioning eyebrow. “Not a fan of gratitude?”

“No, sir, that’s not it.” Tony did his best to relax even though he felt tense and trapped. “‘Edward’ is what Howard calls me. My name is Tony.”

Steve didn’t understand but he made a mental note to find out later. He released Tony’s arm and tried again, his voice sincere. “Thank you, Tony.” He pointed to the hand holding the money and said sternly, “ _That_ is for _you_.”

Tony looked at the money and then back to Mr Rogers. “Sir, that’s too much.” It didn’t feel good to talk back to him but it was a lot of money. More than Tony had ever been given to spend for himself.

Steve eyed Tony, quiet again, and then Dugan. He made a gesture and Dugan held out his hand for the money and Tony obeyed. Dugan counted it out and said, “Ten dollars.” Steve reached out and swapped it for another roll in a different pocket and gave it to Tony. 

“Here. A five and five ones instead of two fives. Looks like less. I won’t be taking this back again, you hear?” His look was intense and he was not bluffing.

Tony swallowed as he clenched his hand around the money and nodded. “Thank you, Mr Rogers, sir.” He slowly backed away, wanting to leave, the money still tightly held in his hand.

“Tony,” Steve called, unwrapping his sandwich. He looked up again, expression unreadable. “Not much of a fighter?” He was looking at the wounds he could see, the bruising and the bandages. “Or a klutz?”

When he heard his name he stopped immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor as he tried to think of a response. “A klutz,” he answered, not looking at him, fearing that his face would give away what he was feeling and thinking. “Fell down the stairs the other day. And yesterday I ran into... a door handle.” Towards the end of his sentence he raised his voice like it was a question. He didn’t do it on purpose and didn’t realize that he was doing it either.

Steve ground his jaw, still staring at Tony, watching his face and the way he searched for answers while he spoke. No one telling the truth did that. “Hm,” was all he said and nodded at Jones who was at the door to escort Tony out.

Once the door shut, Dugan turned to him. “What was that about?”

“Howard Stark. What’s the word on him?”

“Nothing good.”

“You wanna elaborate,” Steve asked, taking a bite of his sandwich, “or am I supposed to guess?”

“Lost his daughter to polio a few years back, lost his wife more recently,” he explained and ah, that made sense. Steve thought he remembered a different face as the front of the deli. He noted how Dugan didn’t say what she died of and when he asked, the answer only made him more suspicious. “Quite the swigger according to his neighbors. Got another kid, young boy, in addition to Tony.” Steve nodded along as Dugan carried on. This is why he was Steve’s right hand man. He never left Steve with unanswered questions. 

“Keep a close one on the _eejit_. I don’t trust him,” Steve instructed. “I want Tony making weekly deliveries too,” he said, not just because he loved his sandwiches but to keep his own updates on Tony and those colorful marks on him.

+

The week after the two usual men came to pick-up the money like they did every two weeks, only this time it was Tony who had to pay them while Howard was taking a nap in the back office. Unsure of how Howard usually treated them he gave each a sandwich and then tended to the customers who came in. 

It became a weekly thing to deliver to the Irish. With every passing week, Howard got more and more irritated by their ‘audacity to take as much money for protection as they did and demand food on top of everything else’. He would tell Tony how awful the Irish were, complaining about how no one could understand them since they refused to speak proper English. Apparently they were also heavy drinkers, which was rich coming from Howard but Tony never said anything. 

Every week the head of the Irish mob, Mr Rogers, would tip him. Every week he’d say it was for Tony only. And Tony made sure to hide the money with whatever he managed to steal from the register when Howard wasn’t around. The box in the corner under the bed he was sharing with his brother was finally filling up with some good money. At this rate he could soon make plans to run away with him. That was, _if_ the Irish kept tipping him. He couldn’t depend on that. Every cent was better than nothing and he was grateful for it. 

The following Thursday Tony took the usual order and confirmed he’d deliver it. Before he hung up on Dugan, he quickly added: “I’ll need help this week. Is it okay if someone accompanies me?” It felt only right to ask permission. “She’s helping out at the store every now and then.”

“Fine.” He heard before Dugan hung up on him. It didn’t seem to be fine. 

“Pepper, we’re gonna make a delivery today around noon,” Tony told her and started cutting the bread, holding it with the injured hand and using the bread knife in his left. He wasn’t used to cutting with his left hand and it ended up injuring his right hand even further but that didn’t matter. 

It was only a couple minutes later than the usual time Tony got to the address—Pepper was a slow walker—but it still made him nervous, even though they never said a specific time. The two men eyed Pepper and then looked to Tony. 

“She’s helping me today,” he said and Pepper with her charming ways introduced herself and had them smiling at her in no time and they let them in. Jones still patted Tony down when he came in and Tony had gotten used to it. 

“You vouch for her?” Jones asked Tony, which made him frown. 

“Yeah,” he answered, suddenly not so sure anymore. She hadn’t known where they were going, so why wouldn’t he trust her? Pepper said something in Gaelic to him, which made him grin. 

“Go on then. Don’t keep them waiting.” 

“What did you say?” Tony whispered and Pepper just winked at him. He pointed to the table and unwrapped the top layer with her. 

“Who the feck is she?” Dugan asked, turning around to see the girl when he caught sight of the flicker of anger in Steve’s eyes. But he had misread the reason for the anger. 

“That’s Pepper, sir. She helps around the store.” Tony introduced her and kept his bandaged hand behind his back. “I needed her help today, is all.” He didn’t dare look at Mr Rogers. Hadn’t he asked permission? Why did they seem so upset? 

“Right,” Dugan said, remembering the conversation. He turned to Steve and said something under his breath in Gaelic. Steve nodded but it was a tight movement, anger making his body tense. His eyes were on Tony only but he gestured for them to bring the food over as usual.

When Tony was close enough to the desk, Steve spoke, “Why exactly do you need help?” 

Tony bit the inside of his cheek and looked to Pepper. “I injured my wrist, sir. It made carrying the plate difficult.” 

“How,” he asked, the word ringing out in the room. There was more force behind it than he intended, his temper not something he was good at controlling. 

The anger in his voice made Tony take a step back instinctively. How he really didn’t want to answer the question. At the same time he couldn’t think of an excuse. Every second he didn’t answer made him more nervous. He simply couldn’t reply.

Steve slammed his fist down on the table and even Dugan winced. “Out, take the girl,” he told him and Dugan stood and took Pepper by her arm, gently, and led her out, shutting the door.

Steve stood, straightening his waistcoat. “Sit,” he barked and Tony took a seat.

Steve moved around to sit on the other side of his desk, right in front of Tony, his hands together in his lap. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself before he spoke, his eyes on Tony who wouldn’t look up.

“Look at me,” he ordered, “and tell me what happened to your wrist.” Despite the firmness, his voice was quieter.

Tony did as he was told, he found that helped when people were angry. And if there was one person he shouldn’t anger it was the man sitting in front of him.

“Howard, my father, twisted my arm behind my back. He hurt my wrist pretty bad. The swelling is down but it hurts,” Tony explained and as soon as he was done speaking he looked at a spot on the desk instead. He didn’t give unnecessary details, thinking they weren’t exactly important. “If you’re angry I brought her with me, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cancel your order because of this.”

“Why did he do it?” Steve disregarded everything else Tony said. He wasn’t mad about Pepper, far from it. He just wanted to know if he should shoot Howard Stark in the knee or in both knees.

Tony furrowed his brows, unsure where this was going. He didn’t like it, that was for sure. “Because he was yelling at my little brother and I was afraid he would hit him. I made my brother hide and it made Howard furious.”

Steve’s eyes were still on Tony and he spoke again slowly, his voice dropping another octave, “Tell me something. And I want the truth.” He waited a beat. “Did your brother deserve a beating?”

“No, never!” That one was easy to answer. He looked back up and shook his head. “He’s nine years old, only a boy, sir. He just wanted to play and knocked over Howard’s bourbon. Does a boy deserve a beating for that?”

Steve just looked at him like he always did, silent, his face blank. He dragged a hand down his face, breathing out loudly through his nose. He stood and moved back around to the other side of the desk and opened a drawer. Not the one he’d opened a few days back, a lower drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down, sliding it into an envelope and sealing it. It was addressed to Howard.

He slid it across the desk to Tony, telling him to take it, and then motioned for him to leave.

Tony took the envelope and nodded. There was no way of knowing what he had written and at this point Tony was honestly scared. Outside the door Pepper was talking to Dugan and apparently she had made him laugh. At least she hadn’t been grim about being sent out. She was naturally curious and a talkative person but on the way back to the store Pepper was silent and they continued working without talking about the events from earlier. Howard hadn’t even noticed how long the both of them had been gone. He could entertain the noon crowd by himself. Tony hated to see him this friendly with neighbors, chatting with them and telling jokes. Once things had calmed down, Tony gave the envelope to Howard.

“Mr Rogers told me to give this to you,” he said and turned to leave. Nothing good could come out of this. Tony was frantically thinking about how much money he had saved and if that could be enough to get away. He was almost at the door leading to their apartment when he heard Howard tell Pepper to head out for the day. Good Lord, Tony didn’t even know if his brother was home yet or not. He couldn’t leave without him. Before Tony even reached the top of the stairs he was pulled back by his shirt, which ripped at the sheer force. Howard threw him onto the stairs, his knee burying into his stomach.

“What is this supposed to mean, huh?” He pressed the paper into Tony’s face, making it impossible for him to read it. “Strike one?! What have you done?”

Uncertain of how much time had passed since Howard had once again lost his temper, Tony was crawling to his bedroom and simply laid on the floor, holding his aching stomach. Howard had stuffed the letter into his shirt and he slowly unwrapped the wrinkled up paper to read what it said.

𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮. - 𝓢𝓡

Tony almost laughed at it and pressed the letter above his heart. Mr Rogers was threatening his father over what he had done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: we both already knew (and have been re-informed) that Irish is the most common name of the language. Irish Gaelic is still not incorrect and we mean no disrespect by calling it Gaelic throughout the fic instead of simply Irish. In all honesty, we did it for the sake of one pun that we refused to not include.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thought about giving Mr Rogers a call, seeing as Howard had left earlier. Having a way with numbers, he'd memorized it from the piece of paper and called it. 
> 
> “Mr Rogers, sir, I know Dugan just hung up but you wanted to know when Howard was out for the day. That would also be today, sir.”
> 
> "Tony."

Steve was angry and it was visible in his posture and the way he spoke, his words over-enunciated and his tone abrupt.

“What ever happened to leaving business at the door?” James asked, leveling Steve with a look. Steve turned to him, about to give him an earful and then sighed, cracking his neck.

“You’re right. I apologize,” he told him instead. He tapped the bar twice with two fingers and seconds later a new drink came his way, a double of Powers, neat. 

“No ice? Something really must be bothering you,” James said. “We don’t just meet here to sit in silence and look menacing,” he joked. He looked Steve up and down, noting his posture and when he came back up, Steve was watching him intently. 

“Howard Stark, know him?” James nodded.

“Word travels.”

“What words have you heard?”

“Abusive drunk.” When Steve raised his eyebrows, James continued. “One of my men lives not far from him. He has complained about the yelling. Stark told him in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself. Only reason he’s still alive is because I know he's on your payment route.” Steve snorted.

“Should’ve taken him out, done the world a favor.”

James raised an eyebrow. “If he’s causing you so much grief, why not do it yourself?” James added, “Why do you even care?”

Steve dropped his head, looking away from James, taking a long drink. Why did he care so much? Just because he knew what it was like to be on the other side of a belt? Because Tony seemed like a good kid? Because he couldn’t get him out of his head?

“His son,” was all Steve said and James nodded. He wasn’t sure which of the reasons Steve had just thought of was making James nod but so long as he didn’t need to go into more detail, he was fine.

James pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Steve who declined, and then lit up. He blew a puff of smoke at the ceiling, his eyes sliding to Steve, a sly smile on his face. “How good-looking are we talking?”

Steve tried his best not to smile and failed. He laughed. James knew him too well. “Dark-haired, tough, eyes to die for,” he said, remembering the way Tony had watched him the first time he’d visited the deli. This was one of the only places James and he discussed such things. Their men were loyal but not all were as loyal as the two with them now. Some would definitely choose to report them over support them.

\+ 

Tony kept the letter hidden with the money under the bed. Not even his brother knew about the box there and he would keep it that way until it was finally time to go far away from there. That thought was the only thing keeping him going. The threat against Howard also helped to deal with the mood swings, yelling, and beatings. Even though things had gotten worse since his last delivery, Tony could handle it.

Thursday came and it was passed the usual time Dugan would call. Had they changed their minds? Had Mr Rogers changed his mind? These and other thoughts haunted Tony in the few minutes that Dugan was late.

Even though his wrist was still giving him a hard time Tony would not ask Pepper for help again. And then the phone finally rang and Howard didn’t make it to the phone before Tony did. Dugan placed their usual order and after a moment of silence Dugan told Tony to make his personal favorite. As per usual he didn’t care to wait for an actual reply and hung up on Tony. His personal favorite?

While Tony fixed up the other sandwiches, he thought about which one could be his favorite. He chose one with Italian ham, thin sliced tomatoes, a bit of parmesan and sprinkled a few herbs on top.

He left the store and saw Pepper chatting away with one of her friends who came to visit her every now and then. 

The two guards in front of Mr Rogers’ building looked at Tony and simply let him in, but not without asking about his cute girlfriend. He simply smiled and headed inside. Why would they think he’d make his girlfriend work with him? Jones gave him the usual pat down and Tony tried his hardest not to flinch when he hit a sore spot.

Inside he put the plate on the usual spot without hesitation and unwrapped everything.

“You asked for my personal favorite? This is it,” he said and put it in front of Dugan. 

“Looks delicious,” he said, in a ‘what do I care’ kind of tone. He got up, took his own plate and left.

Steve was leaning back in his chair, arms in the usual position, one across his chest while the other came up to tap his chin, his eyes fixed on the food for once instead of Tony. 

“Come here,” he said, gesturing for Tony to come around his desk to where he was. When he did, Steve looked him up and down, reaching out but deciding against it last minute. “Turn around.” Again Tony complied and then Steve told him to sit, his scowl deeper than before.

Tony sat across from him and Steve leaned forward, grabbing his sandwich. After a bite he looked at Tony weird before remembering he wasn’t Dugan.

“Go on, eat. You could use some meat on those bones,” he said, pushing the plate a little bit further towards Tony.

“Sir?” Tony asked confused and looked down on the plate. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long. Pepper can’t run the store alone around this time.” He appreciated the gesture but he simply couldn’t stay to eat. At least he had the foresight to change into better clothes this time around and he was grateful for it, even though it was simple black pants and a black sweater on top.

Steve should’ve thought about that but that was alright. He already had a plan for next time. But something about Tony’s statement caught his attention.

“Does your father do any work?” He asked, just the right amount of venom in his voice for his liking.

“That depends on a lot of factors.” Tony decided to stay as vague as he could but still answer the questions he was asked. “My mom used to run the deli, he did the heavy lifting. Now it's mostly me and Pepper.”

“Hm,” he hummed. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he added after a moment of thought. “Well, next time your father is sure to be out for the whole day, call this number,” he told him, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a nice, expensive-looking silver pen. He jotted down a number and slid it across to Tony. “That’s this phone right here.” He pointed to the one sat on his desk.

“Well… when that might happen also depends on a lot of factors. Sometimes Mondays—” When he’s too hungover and only came home when the sun was already up “—or Fridays—” When he couldn't wait to go out and get drunk “— but these past few weeks it’s been Thursdays.”

He leaned back again, not touching his sandwich. “Hm, alright. I’ll see you next Thursday then. Keep the number. You may go,” he told him, his scowl never leaving. 

Tony put the piece of paper in his pocket and lingered for a moment longer, looking at Mr Rogers with a mix of confusion and gratitude. “Thank you, sir.” He got up and gave him an honest smile before heading out, taking last week's plate with him. 

When Tony was gone, Dugan immediately came back in with his sandwich, annoyed that he’d been kicked out in the first place. 

“What was that about, Cap?” he asked, not usually one to question Steve but probably the only one other than James who could and not at the very least get his head bitten off and at the very most get shot. 

“He’s a good kid. Bad situation.” 

“So you invite him for lunch?” 

“So I give him a break from his arsehole father,” he said, his accent always skewing more towards Irish the angrier he got. Dugan nodded, understanding. He’d grown up with Steve. He remembered Joseph Rogers. Steve sighed. “Anything I need’ta take care of, Dugan?” 

Dugan took out a notebook from his suit pocket and thumbed through the pages, shaking his head after a moment. 

Steve brought his hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling. Dugan stood and went around to stand behind him, his hands coming down onto his shoulders and massaging roughly. Steve relaxed slightly. 

“Steve,” he said, using the name he rarely ever did. Steve’s eyes cracked open and he looked up at him, waiting for his question. “You want me to call your usual place?” 

He thought about it for a minute before nodding and Dugan made the call. Later that evening they headed over. 

It was a brothel, a clean brothel, but a brothel. Run and owned by none other than James Romanov himself. 

James greeted him inside once they had passed through security, patting his shoulder. 

“I have just the room for you, my friend,” he said with a grin, his grey eyes bright and mischievous. He led Steve to the back to what he called his own private section of the brothel. It was even cleaner and luxurious. He opened the second door and told Steve to wait. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and waited for whatever dame James had in mind. He also chose good ones for Steve. A few moments later, the door opened and Steve’s lips parted, no sound coming out, and then he smiled. 

There stood someone, mid-twenties, dark brown hair and large brown eyes. Looking up they seemed shocked at who they saw on the bed. 

James was still at the door, looking very smug. “Don’t worry. I’ve managed to work out an agreement with a handful of willing ones. Besides, if they go to the cops, they go to jail too.” The door shut and Steve turned around, the reality of the situation sinking in and he smirked. 

“And who are you?” Steve asked, moving towards them. 

A smile, a playful look. “John, sir,” he said, and Steve closed the space with a kiss. 

Tony couldn’t stop thinking about the unexpected kindness directed towards him by the Irish. Howard continued to bad-mouth them, cussing about them and the Russians too but Tony didn’t bother listening anymore. 

When Pepper started coming in every day of the next week and Howard was more absent, Tony couldn’t have been happier. Working with Pepper, even if they barely spoke to each other, was always nice. It gave him a breather and he could take care of chores that he’d neglected for too long. Of course he hadn't forgotten what he had been told but Tony’s priority always had been and always would be the well-being of his brother. 

Three days he got lucky having Pepper to work with even though she complained jokingly about the amount of work. Despite what his freedom during the day meant for his nights, Tony considered himself lucky.

On Thursday the phone rang around the usual time. After his rough start in the morning —Howard had yanked him out of the bed and thrown Tony on the floor, yelling about the empty bed Peter should be using instead of curling up with his brother— he was grateful to hear Dugan's indifferent voice. 

After he had hung up, he thought about giving Mr Rogers a call, seeing as Howard had left earlier. Having a way with numbers, Tony had memorized it from the piece of paper and called it. 

“Mr Rogers, sir, I know Dugan just hung up but you wanted to know when Howard was out for the day. That would also be today, sir.”

“Tony,” he said and he was smiling on the other end of the line, grateful and relieved to hear him sounding as though he were in one piece. He was not actually in a shooting mood today. “There in ten,” he told him and hung up. None of them really did ‘goodbyes’. 

“I’m guessing that was Stark’s son,” Dugan said knowingly. 

“It’s not like that. If you think I deserved protection from my dad, he does too,” Steve said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. 

“What’s with the face?” Pepper asked turning to Tony from looking out of the shop’s window. 

“Mr Rogers said he’s gonna be here? I don’t know what to do about the order Dugan placed.” Pepper chuckled and gently pushed him towards the kitchen and told him to go for it. She didn’t react to Tony’s flinching and gently patted his cheek. 

Tony was nowhere near done with the sandwiches when the door was opened and three men stepped in. Why did he expect him to come alone? 

Dugan turned the store's plate from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ and let down the door’s blinds. Pepper chuckled and greeted them in Gaelic. One look from Mr Rogers and Dugan opened the store again. Tony watched from where he was standing and greeted them. 

“Fix up the joe?” he asked Pepper and she was right on it. “I’ll be just another few minutes. I’m sorry, sir.” He looked to the other two apologetically and went back to fix the sandwiches. To his surprise, Dugan and Jones sat at the other table and Mr Rogers was on his own. He was served first of course and then the other two. 

“Sir, I didn’t think you’d be coming here,” Tony said, trying to control his Italian accent. Whenever Howard wasn’t there he focused less on his speech. Plus, Mr Rogers’ perfect look did nothing to help him focus.

Steve looked confused. “But I told you I’d come.” He sipped the hot coffee now put down in front of him. It was as delicious as he remembered it. “We’re taking some of this with us,” he told Dugan and Jones. “It’s much better than that piss water Falsworth makes.” Both men chuckled. 

“Yes, you did, sir, but to stay?” Tony asked and smiled at the compliment for the coffee. It was strong and smooth, unlike other bitter, weak coffees. That someone like Mr Rogers appreciated it made him smile. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, this is perfect. If you need to work, work. I’ll just enjoy my lunch,” he told him, sipping his coffee, still wearing his hat. When the brim covered his eyes from view as he sipped, he scanned the room, looking up again a second later and observing Tony. He couldn’t help but notice the way he held himself, like he was sore all over and trying so hard not to show it. “If you’re not that busy, however, join me.” 

“He’s not, sir,” Pepper said and told Tony she would take care of the kitchen and any customers that came in over lunch. She gave him a cup of coffee and he sat down across the table from Mr Rogers. 

“Not eating?”

“I eat while I work. Coffee’s fine for me.”

Steve frowned, about to ask what he’d eaten today, feeling it was a lie or at least a half-truth but instead he went for another route. He wanted to know more about Tony. No one deserved what he was going through but still, he wanted to know what kind of person it was that he was getting himself involved with. “So, Tony. That short for Anthony?” 

“Antonio, actually,” he answered. 

Steve kept his thoughts and his reactions to himself for the moment and carried on to his next topic. He took a bite of his sandwich, gently dabbing at his mouth with the napkin provided. He eyed Pepper, jerking his head in her direction. “You two going steady?” 

Tony looked to Pepper then back to him and shook his head. “No, sir. She’s a fine bird, if that's what you're asking.”

 _It wasn’t_ , Steve wanted to say but kept that to himself as well. He finished one half of his sandwich and sat back, one hand resting on his chin, the other across his chest, and his eyes focused on Tony. He finally removed his hat and set it on the table away from their food and drinks. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen, sir,” he answered. “Turning nineteen in May.”

Steve nodded, taking in the information. He watched Tony reach for his own coffee, not using the hand Steve hand come to assume was his dominant one. Steve frowned again. “Something the matter with your wrist still?”

“Shoulder and wrist, sir,” he said quietly and stared into the black liquid as if it would change anything.

“Hm,” Steve said angrily, his hand on the table curling into a fist and making his knuckles go impossibly paler. He wouldn’t say anything in front of Pepper. Lord knows he would’ve been ashamed if anyone had broadcasted his beatings for all the world to hear. 

Steve kept his voice low so it wouldn’t travel any farther than Tony, not even to Dugan and Jones. He was grinding his jaw, his eyes on Tony. “When was the last time?” The question did come out whispered but strained, between gritted teeth.

Tony hesitated and swallowed dryly. Why would he ask that? He had to clear his throat slightly and answered just as quietly, “This morning when he saw my brother sharing the bed with me.”

Steve smiled but there was absolutely nothing joyous about it. It was cold and scary. He laughed and it was just as out of place as the smile. He was doing his best to refrain from an outburst like the one in his office if for no other reason than it had startled Tony but he could kill Howard Stark. Strangle him with his bare hands and watch the life go out of his eyes. He’d gladly do it but he had not come to the deli today to daydream about murdering Howard. He’d come to see Tony and no matter how much teasing that would get him from Dugan and James, he’d keep coming when he could. Mainly, because Steve knew his presence scared Howard shitless. Secondly, because he liked the kid. Anyone with the kind of loyalty to family that meant taking a beating not meant for you was alright in his books.

Calmed slightly, he looked around the shop. “And why isn’t he here today?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said and shrugged. It was a half-truth. He knew where he could find his father but it wasn’t like his father told him where he was going and when or why. All Tony knew was he took money from the register for whatever he was doing. “You’re probably not asking because you want to see him, sir?” he dared to give the man the slightest grin and looked right back down.

Steve chuckled. “I most certainly do not want to see your father.” He asked for more coffee and when his cup was refilled, he sipped it slowly, enjoying it. It would not be as good when they took it back and reheated it, that was for sure. He checked his pocket watch. He knew he had an appointment soon. Less of an appointment and more of an execution but semantics.

He considered asking Tony more questions. He wanted to know all about him. His likes, his dislikes, especially what things he hated so he could keep them far away from him but that was excessive and Steve needed to maintain certain public appearances and those appearances did not always match up with his desires, unfortunately. 

He grabbed his hat and as soon as he stood, Dugan and Jones were standing too. He met eyes with Pepper and gave her a courteous nod and then Tony. Those beautiful brown eyes he saw every time he closed his eyes. The ones James had hoped to give him the other night but they just weren’t right. Those eyes that continued to shine despite the hardship he was enduring.

Steve tipped his hat to Tony and left without a word, Jones in front of him and Dugan behind.

Tony watched the men leave and smiled when he noticed how a passerby reacted to seeing them, then looked at the deli and quickly moved on. Another man stopped walking and greeted Mr Rogers. Tony couldn’t help but wonder what having that much power must feel like. 

“Mr Rogers sure doesn’t talk a lot,” Pepper said, making Tony turn around and look at her. “Did he want something in particular?”

“I don’t think he can stand Howard,” Tony stated. Knowing that a man in his position had even noticed these kind of things when others didn’t even notice a bandage. He noticed that Tony wasn’t using his good hand and asked. He even remembered the thing with his wrist. Sometimes Tony himself forgot about his most recent injuries until something happened and the pain reminded him. Pepper started clearing the tables and Tony went back to the kitchen to do the dishes, all the while thinking of Mr Rogers. 

When Howard didn’t come home that night Tony was on edge. It never meant anything good when he didn’t come back. Though there was always the small chance he got hit by a car and died. Or mugged and killed. Or maybe angered someone he shouldn’t have and got shot. One could only dream. 

When it was time for Tony to get up and bring the deliveries inside, Howard came up the stairs. Tony quickly rushed back to bed, covering Benni’s mouth when the boy woke up and gesturing for him to be silent. His father came into the room and Tony hid his brother’s body from sight. Howard huffed and left the room, leaving Tony to wonder if he hadn’t noticed or if he finally stopped caring. 

He gave his brother a soft kiss on his cheek and told him to go back to sleep before finally heading down to the shop. Twenty-four hours without a beating was the longest time since... Tony couldn’t even remember the last time he had this much time without. It was so long that Tony wondered if he had had another black out and simply didn’t remember anything happening. It also left him jumpier than usual, always expecting Howard to come in and hit him for whatever reason he could find. 

Benni went to school, came back later and spent time in the shop to do his homework there and Tony still hadn’t seen Howard. Maybe he died in his sleep. Maybe he had a heart attack. Or drank himself to death. Maybe they were finally free. 

Of course it was too good to be true and he knew it. Even on Howard’s good days Tony ended up with fresh wounds and bruises. 

As always, Tony cooked dinner with leftovers from the store in order not to waste good food and save money which he then could steal from the register. Howard had disappeared, probably to buy more alcohol and Tony used the calm evening to cook together with his brother and teach him the basics. They even managed to eat dinner in peace, bathe and Tony tucked Benni in his own bed, reading him a fairy tale and kissing him good night. He did all that without ever showing how nervous he was that his father had not been around all day. It was truly getting too good to be true. 

Tony left a plate with food on the dinner table and did the dishes, currently waiting for water to heat up on the stove. His blood froze when he heard the downstairs door opening and the heavy footsteps on the stairs. It had been a good day. Maybe Howard would fall asleep in front of the TV as he usually did and everything would continue to be good. 

“Edward, I’m hungry!” The man barked and staggered into the kitchen, nearly missing the chair as he sat down. 

“Right in front of you is dinner,” Tony answered without looking at him. “And you’ve still got enough to drink in that bottle.” He scoffed and looked at the water that was obviously now hot enough to do the dishes with.

“Don’t talk to me like that! I’m your father,” Howard barked. If he continued to be this loud he would wake the little one. So Tony went to close the kitchen door to muffle out the noises. 

“Right. How about you eat your dinner and go to bed,” Tony suggested and shook his head. What a disgrace his father was. He went to close the kitchen window, not wanting to disturb anyone more than they usually did. Once the window was closed Tony turned around and Howard was standing behind him. He hadn’t heard him get back up. 

“You don’t talk to me that way, you hear me?” Howard growled and even though Tony was used to his father being angry, this was on a whole different scale. Slowly he nodded, not daring to say a word. _Just survive a little longer_ , he told himself. 

“You will _answer me_ when I ask you a question!” Howard yelled and grabbed Tony by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards him forcefully. “You don’t deserve any of this! Ungrateful fuck like your mother!” Howard continued to shake and slap Tony, yelling at him and cursing him and his mother. He finally let go and dropped Tony on the ground. _Okay, this isn’t too bad. Just get out of here, Tony. Get out_. 

“Fucking bastard!” Howard scoffed and kicked Tony in his stomach. 

_You can do this, c’mon Tony._ He pulled himself up on the counter and looked at his father. “How can I be a bastard, when I’m your son?” He mumbled, sure that Howard wouldn’t hear him, since he never did. Unfortunately he was wrong and Howard did hear him that time. In his unbelievable rage he grabbed Tony’s arm and forced it into the hot water, pressing it down to the bottom of the pot even despite Tony’s screams. The pain was unbearable, making his whole body go numb. He didn’t even notice how Howard shoved him on the ground and had his foot on his chest, pressing him down. 

Howard didn’t say anything else, just threw a chair across the room, nearly hitting Tony, and left the kitchen. Tony tried his hardest not to faint and got up slowly to hold his arm under cold water. It took a long time before he felt some relief to the throbbing pain but he refused to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are really long from here on out. Also, I'll be providing a list of vocab with translations on any chapters using Italian, Russian, Gaelic, Irish English Slang or uncommon 1940s terms from here on out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> thanks from us both :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike three, Howard. You're out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mal'chik (russian) = boy  
> lettuce = 1940s slang for money

Steve came out of the room, fastening his belt buckle, flushed but smirking. Dugan was sat not too far away reading a paper and he looked up, jerking his chin up as if to ask ‘and?’ Steve made a face that said all and Dugan chuckled, shaking his head. Steve’s partner couldn’t leave the bed just yet. 

Steve was putting his jacket on when James approached him, which still put Dugan on edge but not because he didn’t trust the man—he knew James and Steve were childhood friends, he himself was on good terms with James—but because he was infinitely scarier than Steve. 

The dark, short hairstyle and clean-shaven face he sported should’ve made him seem more open but instead it just made everything more pronounced, everything about him striking and unforgettable. The way he held himself, tall, strong, unyielding. That was not unlike Steve but Dugan knew Cap and Winter differed greatly in their moral codes and that was the scariest thing about him. 

Steve was still a little happy-go-lucky following his romp in the sheets. He hadn't made too much of a habit of going to James’ brothel but rather he spread it out enough to make each time truly worth it.

“That a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Steve teased. James only barely smiled.

He reached into his pocket and Dugan paled. “It’s a knife. Does not mean I am not happy to see you though,” he told him, his voice serious despite the words coming out.

“Seems like you didn’t come over with good news there, pal,” Steve told him, searching his face. James’ eyes slid to Dugan who wanted to step away but controlled himself. Steve followed his eyes and said, “I trust him. What’s the story?” 

“Your _mal’chik_ ,” James said, knowing Steve knew what he meant, “one of my men spotted him this morning at the pharmacy buying burn ointment. He approached him but he would not talk.” Steve wanted to roll his eyes because of course Tony wasn’t about to talk to some random Russian at the pharmacy asking about his private life. “He reported it to me just a few minutes ago.” As he added the last sentence, he wiped his knuckles off on a handkerchief in his pocket, blood on them.

Steve looked at his hands. “You interrupt some business to come tell me this?”

“No,” he said nonchalantly, “I am not fond of being the last to know.”

“Well, I appreciate you telling me.”

“Of course. If it were the other way around I don’t doubt you’d do the same, Steve.” Steve nodded and James watched the anger bubbling up in him, heard the audible sound of his knuckles cracking as he balled them into fists at the thought of what Howard might’ve done to Tony. James put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you do, don’t kill him.” 

“What? And why not?” 

“You and I both know that honor belongs to the _mal’chik_.” 

Steve would have a hard time restraining himself and for that reason, he would meet with Tony first. See the damage for himself before deciding on a course of action.

On Thursday Steve was so wound up at the idea of what he might be about to see that he did not want lunch. He told Dugan to order for himself and then send Tony down to the basement where his boxing ring was. Steve stood in the ring facing Falsworth who was a very accomplished fighter.

Dugan, carrying his sandwich in his hand and eating it, brought Tony in.

“Cap, he’s here,” he called out over the sound of a punch. Steve turned and saw him and sucked in a sharp, furious breath. Falsworth swung at him, about to remind him of the importance of not letting anything distract you, when Steve turned and caught the fist in a hand. Falsworth’s face was the equivalent of ‘uh-oh’ and Dugan just laughed and kept eating.

“We’re taking a break,” he told him and Falsworth nodded and took back his hand, shaking it to make it stop throbbing.

Steve hopped gracefully over the ropes and landed on the ground, coming towards Tony. Dugan left and took Falsworth with him, leaving the gym empty besides the two of them. Steve looked him over, this time not hesitating to touch him but with extremely gentle fingers, avoiding his arm in its entirety.

“How are you now?”

Going down in a building that belonged to a mob didn’t feel good for many reasons even if Tony didn’t have any grounds to be frightened. He knew from Mr Rogers’ well-built body that he must be strong but to actually see him punching someone was still somewhat surprising. Even more surprising was that he and Mr Rogers were alone within seconds and then his hand came up to touch him, making Tony flinch.

“Sir?” He asked, confused, and followed his gaze to the bandaged arm. “It’ll heal, sir,” he said and shook his head.

Steve’s face softened completely at Tony’s flinch and, being alone, he allowed himself freedoms in his speech and manner that he normally would not. Not even in front of Dugan. “I know it’s a learned thing,” he began, touching Tony’s head to move it this way and that and check for more markings, “but I hope you’ll come to stop reacting like that. I promise I’ll never lay a false hand on ya.”

When he didn’t see anything else, he whistled and in came a young woman with a medical kit. Steve instructed Tony to sit while she looked him over.

Tony sat down and before he could say anything she was already working on getting the sloppy bandages off his arm.

“No, stop!” He pulled his arm away, inhaling sharply at the pain caused by the friction of the fabric. “What are you _doing_?” he almost yelled at the stranger and then looked to Mr Rogers.

“Mary, stop, back off,” Steve barked and moved to Tony, squatting down in front of him. Something he never did. Steve never let himself be lower than others, look up to them. He hesitantly reached out to Tony, a hand on his knee. “What if I do it?”

Tony watched him, not knowing what to make of the whole situation. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The warm hand on his knee made him feel something. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Why does anyone need to do it? I’ve taken care of all and any wounds.” Even in his own ears he sounded weak. Howard was right. Tony was disgustingly weak.

“I know, lad,” he told him softly, “no one’s saying you haven’t. All I want is that you get the _best_ possible caring for.” He kept his hand on his knee since Tony didn’t oppose it being there and Mary handed him what he needed. He looked up at Tony with a raised eyebrow, a silent question of ‘may I?’

Tony looked to the woman and then back to Mr Rogers, slowly rolling up his sleeve and offering the bandaged arm for whatever they wanted to do. He felt weak, vulnerable, disgusting. Even in the basement alone with two others he felt like the whole world could see his weakness. Tony closed his eyes and let them unwrap his arm and inspect the blisters. The air on his skin seemed to hurt just as much as the gentle touches and the cool ointment that was applied. It took some effort but Tony didn’t flinch or pull his arm away. And when the bandages were back on, the woman looked at him expectedly. At first Tony didn’t quite understand and when he did, he jumped up.

“It’s not that bad. Nothing that needs looking over.”

“Tony,” Steve said reassuringly, “sit. It’s alright. Mary,” he finished his directions to her in Gaelic and she looked surprised but did as she was told and promptly left. Steve took out what he needed and gently worked on one of Tony’s other visible wounds. “My ma worked as a nurse up until a few years back, taught me a thing or two,” he said, smiling fondly. He reached for Tony’s shirt and again waited for permission.

Was this the same man he had seen only a few weeks back at the deli staring at Howard? How could that be? 

Slowly, very slowly, Tony lifted his shirt. Unable to pull it off by himself, Mr Rogers helped him. There he was, in his undershirt in front of a man he didn’t even know on a first name basis. His heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn’t keep his eyes open as the undershirt was stripped from his upper body as well.

Steve watched his face and it hurt his heart to see how painful something as simple as taking off a shirt was. Worse still that he needed help to do it and if that didn’t make him just want to spit in Howard’s face among other things.

Steve sucked in another sharp, angry breath and began tending to his wounds in the tenderest manner possible. When he was done, he handed him an ice pack to hold to his ribs. He had been completely silent when he’d gotten to his back, the otherwise soft skin covered in poorly healed welts.

“Tell me your thoughts on all of this,” Steve said after a moment. He knew he would have question upon question if the roles were reversed. Why did this man— _any_ man—care about him and his home life? But especially Steve, the Irish mob boss who was not known for being kind and gentle.

“You want me to whine how bad my life is?” He asked, his eyes still closed while the man tended to his wounds. Tony had stopped putting ice packs on any of his bruises or wounds long ago because he hated feeling cold. “I don’t know what your endgame is with me and, sir, with all due respect, I don’t care. I just want to go home and protect my brother. Because if I’m not there, Howard will hurt him and he’s just a boy. He can’t take any of this. So, whatever you want me to do, I _will_ do it.” The alcohol burned in one of the fresher wounds, making him move away from the touch of those big, warm hands. Under all the bruises, scars and wounds Tony’s skin was flushed, his heart not wanting to calm down either.

Steve took his words in, squashing the terrible feeling in his gut, and finished what he was doing in silence, focusing on doing the kind of good job for which his mother would give him that look of approval. He sniffed and stood, moving back and away from Tony, letting him put his shirt back on.

He crossed his arms over his chest and whistled again, a different melody, and Dugan and Jones came in this time. Steve turned to them and said, in Gaelic, “ _Drive him home_.”

He turned to Tony, holding out the supplies left by Nurse Mary. “Take these. They’re better than anything you can buy at the pharmacy.” Steve turned without another word and walked off, taking another exit out of the gym.

Dugan came and grabbed the supplies, carrying them for Tony who was obviously very injured. He opened the car door for him back on the street now and waited for Tony to carefully slide in before shutting it. He liked the kid: he was punctual, polite and quiet. 

He got in the passenger seat and Jones started the engine, heading for the deli. It was two minutes later that Dugan spoke.

“Cap’s taken a real shine to you,” he said, looking at Tony in the mirror.

Tony furrowed his brows and looked out of the window next to him, thinking about his words. “There is nothing I can offer or give.”

Dugan snorted, trying to imagine what Steve could possibly want for materially that he didn’t already have. “If he wanted something from you, he would’ve taken it on day one. He’s not the type to ask for permission,” he told him.

“Then why?” he asked and looked at Dugan who was looking at him through the reflection in the mirror. “If there’s no use for me, why care?”

Dugan sighed. He had fragments of ideas that could answer that but in the end he didn’t have the whole picture. Few people rarely knew what was going on in Steve’s mind. “Unfortunately, lad, I don’t know everything. If you want answers from Steve Rogers, you have to _ask_ Steve Rogers.”

Despite not getting an answer, Tony smiled, biting it back, hoping Dugan didn’t see it. 

Steve. 

So that was his name? _Steve_. It fit him so well even though it was so ordinary. “I’ll make sure to ask him when I see him the next time then,” he answered and looked back out the window.

“If you want your answers, you will, lad,” Dugan said, picking up the paper he left in the glove compartment and reading, done talking for now.

Maybe he would. Maybe he’d ask Steve. Thinking about his name, he remembered the warmth of his hand on his knee, his hands and fingers working on his skin. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the feeling and when he opened his eyes again, he saw the deli. How was he supposed to explain all the things he was given? Being driven home?

“I didn’t get to thank Mr Rogers. Could you please tell him I’m grateful for everything?” he asked Dugan while they were still standing outside, partly because he was afraid to enter and partly because he didn’t want Howard to hear. “Thanks for driving me here.” He nodded and then went inside the store. Saturdays were short days and even though it was after closing hours the front door was unlocked and nothing had been cleaned or put away. Without going upstairs, Tony went right to work.

Steve sat at his desk until the early hours of the morning, tapping his pen against his chin, lost in thought. How was he supposed to help if his help hurt? Maybe Tony didn’t even _want_ his help. He had never for a second stopped to even consider that. Steve didn’t have any siblings, his situation had been different. It was just him, his mother and his son-of-a-bitch father. He gladly would have accepted any offer of relief but while Tony got relief from his home life, his other worries only piled up.

Steve couldn’t keep him long when he delivered unless he wanted Tony or his brother to get a beating. He couldn’t visit the deli as often as he wanted either lest anyone start getting any ideas. Either that he’d gone soft or worse—that they’d discover what he was.

It had hurt him to realize that his intentions, his motives, weren’t clear. That Tony thought he wanted something from him when really he wanted something _for_ him. There had to be a better way of doing this. That is, if Tony even wanted anything to be done.

Steve leaned all the way back, letting his head fall as he stared at the intricate ceiling. All his efforts were only making things worse as far as he could tell. Perhaps it was time to stop.

A knock at the door brought him out of his head and back to reality. He called for them to come in. It was Dugan, back from the jobs he’d been given to do after taking Tony home.

“The kid told me to pass on his thanks.” Steve nodded. It didn’t mean anything. There was no way to measure sincerity with those words because who wouldn’t tell Steve Rogers thank you? “Also, you have a visitor.”

Steve sat up straighter, starting fixing his hair but Dugan waved his actions away with a hand.

“Not necessary.”

Now Steve was truly curious and Dugan stepped back to hold the door open for a woman with Steve’s blond hair and blue eyes but an even kinder smile.

“Thank you, Timothy,” she told Dugan, no friend of nicknames or last names as a means of addressing someone. She gave Steve a loving smile. “I heard you’ve been having a few tough ones, pet,” she said and she barely made it another three steps before Steve was kissing her cheek and pulling her into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, ma.”

It was three weeks since Steve had last seen Tony. They had not placed deliveries, Steve had not requested that he visited and he certainly had not visited the deli. He figured it was the best move to just leave him alone. He still kept a close eye on Howard or at least his and James’ men did and while he hoped this would improve things for Tony, it made things worse for Steve.

Steve had many little pleasures in life, but Tony’s weekly visits had become a highlight. He looked forward to them as much as he did his weekly drinks with James. Now with only one of those highlights in his week, he had to find a way to manage his disappointment and that was not something he was particularly good at. 

Steve stood up straight, breathing hard and fixed his hair. He dared anyone in the room to look at him funny so they kept their eyes on the ground. The guy in front of him had no choice but to keep his eyes shut, they were swollen. 

“Please,” he sputtered and Steve just clicked his tongue in anger, pacing. 

It had taken some time but Steve had finally pinpointed the few who were cheating him of his money. Two of his own men who did not yet know they’d been found out and had a rude awakening coming their way, and then this man in front of him. The owner of a small clothing store, Mr Callahan. He’d been paying for sure but those two men of Steve’s who came to collect in his area were relatives of his and they were saving the money. He’d convinced them to swindle everyone on their route, pocket some of the cash after collection and well, Steve was not happy to say the least.

“What is it you’re asking?” Steve taunted.

“I-I'm sorry,” he whined and Steve scoffed, looking over at Dugan who met his eyes finally.

“Do I have rules, Callahan?” 

“Yes, sir.” Steve circled him as he spoke and every time he passed behind the man, Callahan tensed up. 

“Do I make my rules clear?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Steve stopped and Callahan winced, expecting another blow but Steve just stood there, arms crossed, staring at him. “I do now? Then, tell me, did you get confused? Did you… think they didn’t apply to you? Did you just not give a fuck?” Steve laughed. 

Steve approached, leaning down with either hand on the chair handles, right in Callahan’s face. “Well, which one was it?”

Callahan swallowed hard. “I… I got confused?” he said, choosing the one he thought was the least damning. Steve smiled and again, it was unpleasant and twisted his otherwise handsome face into something terrifying.

“Well, that’s too bad. They’re not complicated instructions. Sadly for you, I can’t work with someone this goddamn thick.” With a speed that made Falsworth startle, Steve pulled his gun from the holster and held it to Callahan’s head.

“I hear you found your rats,” James said, from where he sat at the bar beside Steve. Steve’s knuckles were still bruised from taking care of the other two as well. It had been a month now since Tony’s last visit.

“I did.”

“Doesn’t seem to have brought you any peace.”

“Should it have?” He snapped and James ignored his tone.

“And what of the _mal’chik_?”

“What of him?”

“It’s not productive answering a question with a question, asshole,” James told him. Steve glared and James glared right back. James pulled his knife out, pointing it at Steve who didn’t flinch. “Did you have a problem with me that I seemed to have overlooked or are you angry about something else?”

Steve’s gun was pressing into James’ side and after a moment they both started laughing, putting away their weapons.

“Always so dramatic,” James laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have long today. There’s business I need to attend to, so talk.”

“Save it for another day then. Go.” James stood without a second’s hesitation and turned to Steve, giving him a long, knowing look. Steve sighed and pulled out a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “This is for you. A dinner invite.”

James opened it up while Steve watched. He grinned. “‘Dear Jimmy’,” he read. “I’ll be there.”

+

A month went by and Tony was back to taking each day as it came, facing it with less and less strength. The medicine Mr Rogers—Steve—had given him had helped a lot with the blisters and wounds, as well as any new wounds that were inflicted upon him. With Howard drinking more and more Tony had to use the saved and stolen money to pay for necessities and with each dollar he took, his heart broke a little more. Every dollar less was slimming his chances of ever getting away from Howard, from this life.

When the last of the medicine was used, Tony stared at the empty bag and sighed heavily. It must have been what he said that Mr Rogers had decided to turn away from him. He must have expected more from Tony. But what else could he have done or given?

Maintaining a certain image through their deli Tony managed to keep everything going, despite how little sleep he got or how cold their apartment was in order to keep the heating costs at bare minimum. Pepper came to help him, even though he couldn’t always pay her on time. He made sure to have enough money for the Irish when they came to collect every two weeks. When and where Howard managed to spend all their money he wondered but he couldn’t find an answer.

One night, when it was especially cold, Tony gave Peter all the blankets and kept him warm in his arms, while trying to think of any way he could to make things better for his brother. Every night he counted every cent he had saved up, calculating carefully how long he could keep things going like that and it wasn’t very long.

One Thursday, after counting only about twenty-eight dollars in the box, he had fully resigned. There wasn’t much he could do anymore, was there? And so he went to the kitchen, filled a can with fresh coffee and made sandwiches, closing the store and going to the address he knew so well. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the hunger, maybe it was the exhaustion but the way seemed much longer than before.

“We weren’t told you were coming,” one of the men outside said and Tony shook his head.

“Courtesy of our store. The usual, plus some proper joe,” he said and handed them the plate and can.

“Thanks, lad,” the other said and Tony turned around to head back to the store. At this rate, that might have been the last time he went there.

He went back to the store but couldn’t find the strength to open up again and welcome customers. Instead he went upstairs and lied down on his bed and curled up to sleep the hunger away. Feeling the bitter cold around him he remembered the warm touch on his knee, on his back, and chest. If he had thought that he was pathetic back then, he’d rather not have Mr Rogers see him in his situation now.

Before he could find some peace in sleep, Tony was forcefully woken by Howard’s yelling about how cold it was in their home, how the store was closed during opening hours and how there was no food. Tony knew Howard was hitting him, he knew it was supposed to hurt, he could hear his brother screaming, he knew he should be doing something but he didn’t know what.

The next day Tony opened the store and started working despite the swelling in his face and the pain that was numbing everything else. For the first time ever he heard Pepper gasp when she saw him and he felt sorry that she had to see him like that to begin with.

It was the first time she sat him down and talked to him directly, telling him he needed to leave that place, take his brother and run away. He told her about the money and how he didn’t have enough to make it anywhere for a fresh start.

“Then talk to Mr Rogers. I’m sure he’ll help you. He helped before,” Pepper said and reached out to touch Tony but he moved away so she couldn’t.

“I can’t depend on others to save me from this, Pepper. If I can’t make it on my own, I shouldn’t make it at all. Anyway, I guess you’re fired. Sorry.” He smiled and got up to continue working. Christmas was nearing and everyone was trying new things, spicing things up and spending money which wasn’t the worst time to do business but at the end of the day Howard left barely enough to cover for anything.

Another week went by and Beniamino had Christmas break, which made everything more tense since Tony had to look after him too. So he gave him small jobs around the store, which made all the dames giggle when they saw him in his way-too-big apron. 

Benni was so proud of himself that he was helping and it put a smile on Tony’s face for the first time in weeks. Some customers even came by to give them cookies and small tokens of gratitude for the youngest working there and cheering them up. Tony was grateful for every little thing, but it also reminded him of how he should probably do something for Mr Rogers. He would think about that once he got the chance.

On Saturday before Christmas Eve Tony hadn’t seen Howard in two days, which also meant a whole day of income that wasn’t being taken away. He was sitting in front of the box, the letter Mr Rogers had written, next to his phone number to his right while he was counting and counting again, calculating expenses and costs. Benni was fast asleep in his bed while Tony was lost in thought. Twenty-six dollars and thirty-eight cents. During the holidays train tickets were more expensive but if only he could make it to Florida, maybe Texas. Somewhere warm. Somewhere far away. He had no idea how much it would cost to get a place anywhere but Brooklyn. He had no idea about life anywhere else. He looked to his sleeping brother and sighed. Anything was better than staying though, right? 

“Where’d you get that lettuce!” Howard barked and Tony turned pale, scrambling to collect everything and shove it into the box but Howard, drunk as he was, was still faster. He grabbed Tony’s hand and the paper. “What is this, huh? You doing math, hm?” He growled and Tony tried to wriggle away from his grasp but he couldn’t.

“ _Benni,_ _get up. Run,”_ he yelled in Italian, kicking the bed, waking his brother immediately and the boy looked at him in sheer panic. “ _Go, Benni. Run down the street until someone comes out. Run! Hide!”_ he yelled as Howard threw him on the floor. He had spotted the piece of paper with Mr Rogers’ number and the letter next to it. Tony used his chance and shoved the small boy out of the room, wrapping him up with a blanket around his shoulders. Tony was shaking in fear, knowing what was about to happen. “ _I love you so much, Benni. Always remember that, okay? Now run. Please run as far as you can. Don’t stop!_ ”

“Is that where you got the money?!” Howard yelled. Tony shooed his brother out while Howard continued his rant. “Are you their _whore_? Is that what you’ve been doing? Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Despite asking questions Howard gave Tony no chance to answer as he punched him, slapped him, kicked him, and yelled more. He had failed in protecting his brother, in giving him a better life. While he waited for the pain to subside and to pass out from the heavy punches he prayed to whoever might be listening that someone nice would pick up his brother, look after him and love him as much as he deserved to be loved. And if whoever was making that happen could also help him see his mom and sister again, he would love that. And maybe give Mr Rogers— _Steve_ —a sign that he had been truly grateful for the little relief he had given him. Without his help Tony wouldn’t have made it this far.

With that as the last thought on his mind Tony finally passed out, breathing getting more difficult with every ragged inhale, not able to keep his eyes open from all the swelling. Something warm was running down his forehead and over his lips, there was the taste of metal on his tongue. At least he wasn’t cold anymore. 

Benni was running down the street like his brother told him to, going as fast as his little legs would carry him. The air was cold and hurt his lungs and when he reached up to push his hair out of his face, he ran into a big man and almost hit the ground if it hadn’t been for the fact that the guy grabbed him. 

“Where you off’ta in this cold, boyo?” said the man in his Irish accent and then he pushed him farther away, getting a good look at him. “Aren’t you that laddie workin’ down at Stark’s deli?” Benni nodded his head quickly. 

“Quick, run in there and call Cap,” he told the other guy he was with. “You come with me. I’ll keep ya safe,” he told him, pulling him in the direction of Cap’s building. He took his scarf off and wrapped it around the young kid. 

“They call me Jones, and you are?” 

“Benni.” 

When Steve got the call his blood ran cold and then hot less than a second later. He grabbed his jacket and his guns.

Steve did not wait for the car. It would’ve been useless in the snow anyway. Instead he ran down the street. It wasn’t dignified but he wasn’t worried about dignity right then and there. All he could see was Tony lying dead on the ground and killing Howard would never be as satisfying as finding the boy alive.

People jumped out of the way left and right as Steve went bounding down the blocks, gun in hand. He came to an abrupt stop when he reached the deli. The lights were off but the door was left ajar. He pushed his way in and to the back where he assumed the passage was into their home.

He listened for someone—anyone—and headed towards the heavy breathing he could hear coming from upstairs. He rounded the corner into a room and stopped dead. Tony was on the bed, beaten black and blue, and Steve was so angry he almost didn’t register the scene in front of him.

Howard was being held against the wall by a familiar face, a knife to his throat. James turned to Steve.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, slamming Howard forcefully against the wall when he dared to make a sound.

Steve went to Tony, sure the other situation was more than under control, and knelt beside him. He grabbed his wrist and felt a pulse. It was weak but there and he’d never been so relieved in his life. Maybe he was wrong twice over. He should have been there, he should have done _more_.

When he’d gotten the sandwiches earlier that month, he’d assumed it was an act on Howard’s behalf, trying to worm his way back into Steve’s good graces and he’d ignored it. He should’ve known it was Tony. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, devastated. “Is there a—” 

“My men are coming with the ambulance,” James said reassuringly, dropping his tough-as-hell facade when only in the presence of his friend. “You know he will get the best possible care.”

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Steve. Just have Sarah stop calling me Jimmy.” Steve was not in the mood for jokes so he nodded and stayed by Tony’s side, using the handkerchief in his pocket to clean away some of the blood. He barely recognized him.

“James,” Steve said, his voice low and dangerous. “How many fingers does a man need to live?”

James pondered it for a minute, tapping the knife to his own chin, his forearm pushed painfully hard against Howard’s neck. “You know what, I don’t think any, Steve.”

“P-p-please,” Howard begged.

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Steve said to James and then he laughed. “I’m sorry are you begging? Do you want us to not hurt your sorry arse?”

“Please, whatever you want.”

“Did he beg?” Steve asked, his hand on Tony’s leg. Howard’s eyes grew wide and fearful. “ _Did he beg?”_ Steve growled. “I won’t ask again.”

“No.” Steve knew he was telling the truth. Tony wouldn’t. He didn’t seem the kind.

“And if he had? What would you have done? Stopped?” Howard mumbled something and James shoved him harder, pressing the tip of the knife into his skin, drawing blood. Howard screamed.

“You will speak up when he asks you a question or your tongue will be the first thing I cut off.”

“N-no,” Howard finally answered, looking at Steve. 

“Well, then,” Steve said, standing and rolling up his shirt sleeves, “I suggest you save your breath for more important things.”

“Like screaming,” James said with a smile, stabbing the blade into a new, more sensitive spot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s feeling much better!
> 
> Howard’s not.

The deli was closed until further notice. Howard Stark was… being kept in an undisclosed location. Steve visited often, much to Howard’s misfortune. Benni was in the best and safest hands Steve knew of—Sarah Rogers’, at Steve’s home. He seemed to be enjoying himself and Sarah certainly loved having a little boy around again.

Tony was at Coney Island Hospital on the top floor in a private wing. He’d been in a coma for a week now but was expected to make a full recovery. He had a huge room to himself complete with couches, a wonderful view and the best staff the hospital had to offer. The hospital was owned by none other than James Romanov. 

Steve left Tony’s bedside more often than he liked but he did have work to do. He knew already that some of his men lower down on the food chain had begun to murmur, according to Dugan. Steve had squashed those murmurs quite easily.

“Just thought you should know, Cap,” Dugan said.

Steve laughed and responded in Gaelic, beyond furious. “ _You tell them morans that if they have complaints, they can take it up with me personally_.” The complaints had quickly dispersed once Dugan spread that message and Steve hadn’t met with a single underling. 

When he wasn’t at home with Sarah and Benni, who had taken to him better than he expected, he was at the hospital with Tony. When he wasn’t in either of those places and also not working, he was with Howard and James. James was mainly there to keep Steve from killing him. James was very familiar with what the human body looked like on the brink of death.

“Stop, he’s about to pass out,” James told him. Howard was hung up on a wall by his wrists. Rough rope holding him there. He was stripped down to his underwear. They fed him just enough to keep him lucid. Steve did not want him to miss a single ounce of pain.

“Steve,” James barked and Steve cursed and pulled away, Howard gasping for breath now that his neck had been released. He coughed and let his head drop. 

“If you’re wondering how much longer you’ll be here, just remember you put _Tony_ —” he barked his name, forcing Howard to hear and use the name Tony preferred “—through this for _eighteen_ _years_.” He got closer to him, right at his ear. “And don’t think I don’t know about Maria.”

By the time he got back home, Benni was returning from school. Jones picked him up everyday and walked him to Steve’s work where Steve then took him home. Steve’s home was not public knowledge. Some knew, most did not. There was a secret passage through the gym that led to his own basement. Dugan, James, Dmitri (James’ right hand man), Jones, Falsworth, Sarah, and now Benni knew about it. 

He walked with Benni through the passageway. He’d had more lights installed since taking in the kid. He didn’t want him to get spooked. 

“What’d you learn in school today?” 

“Ummm,” he said, thinking back over his day. “We did lots of math.” 

“Oh? Like what? You know you gotta give me something specific if you want a treat before dinner.” 

Benni thought harder. “Fractions.” 

_Good enough,_ Steve thought with a smile, reaching into his suit pocket where he kept his own snack. He pulled out a tiny packet of Whoppers Malted Milk Balls and handed four of them to Benni. “You get extra today because math is pretty hard.” 

“Thanks, Cap.” Steve had told Benni he could call him ‘Steve’ but after hearing the others call him ‘Cap’ and getting the story behind it—Steve’s time in World War II where he, as their Captain, lead his men and helped most of them keep their lives—he’d started using that nickname. Those remaining men were Timothy Dugan, Gabe Jones, and James Montgomery Falsworth.

“Sure thing, laddie.”

Steve’s head dropped as he almost fell asleep where he was sitting beside Tony’s bed. The paper he was reading was on the floor, pages everywhere. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out but outside it was dark but then again it was winter and the sun set at 3pm. 

He pulled out his pocket watch and read 5:27pm. He’d gotten there sometime around two in the afternoon. It was Sunday evening and he spent quite a few Sunday evenings with unconscious Tony, periodically getting up to check his pulse and breathing himself. 

Benni visited every now and then but he didn’t like seeing Tony in a hospital bed, which was understandable. James checked in from time to time, especially when he was free and Steve was not. Dugan had even bought him a little teddy bear with the word ‘brave’ on its tiny white t-shirt. 

And then finally Sarah visited so she could meet the famous boy Steve had dropped everything to save. The boy James had spent the majority of dinner teasing Steve about. The boy Steve didn’t talk about to Sarah. 

She came back into the room with two of James’ men each carrying a hospital food tray. They sat them down on the table, she thanked them and they left, smiling. Who couldn’t Sarah Rogers charm? 

She came over to Steve and rubbed a hand along his back. 

“Top of the mornin’ to ya,” she said with a grin, teasing her sleepy son with the phrase. 

“Was I out long?” 

“Just about forty minutes or so.” He nodded and looked over at the food. She brought one tray over for him and he took the bread roll and ate it slowly while she talked. “So this is him?” Another nod. “I guess this isn’t you trying to give me full grown grandchildren, right?” 

Steve hesitated, not sure where she was going with this and quite frankly, not liking it. He didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes focused on the wall in front of him, shutting down his face.

“Oh no, don’t you go giving me that bollocks, Steven Grant Rogers. I’ve been reading that face since before you could shite on your own and I can read it now.” He looked up at her, worry plain on his face. She reached out and held it in her hands, her smile loving. “I’ve always known.”

“Known what?” He risked, perhaps she didn’t know what he thought she did. 

“That you like ‘em both ways,” she stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Is that what this is about?”

Steve sighed. “It _was_ about that. For a time. Now… I’m not so sure.”

“He’s a wee bit young, isn’t he?”

“Eighteen. Nineteen next spring.” 

“And you’re, what? Twenty-seven? You’re pushin’ thirty, laddie.” He didn’t comment more and his mother realized she’d hit a sore spot without him ever having to tell her. She grabbed her own meal and settled down on the couch beside him, eating and talking about some nonsense from her last visit back to Ireland. 

When Tony regained consciousness, everything was dark but warm. So he ended up in hell? That seemed fitting given everything that had happened. He leaned back and closed his eyes to get some more rest. If he was dead, why did his body continue to ache? That hardly seemed fair but when had life ever been fair to him and why would it be any different now that he was dead. Tony wondered if there was any way he could find out about Benni and if he was okay. 

The next time he woke, it was too bright and he had to close his eyes again immediately. At least he was still warm and not hungry. He could handle anything under those circumstances. Finally, he decided to open his eyes and stare at the whiteness of the ceiling, trying to adjust before he could look around. 

Someone was moving towards a door and said something Tony couldn’t understand. His time to rest was probably over now. Slowly he turned to look around and was honestly surprised he recognized a hospital room of sorts. Not that Tony had ever seen a room like that. It was almost as big as their apartment, way more spacious, brighter, and definitely cleaner.

A dark haired man was standing next to him and even though Tony didn’t know him he simply asked, “I’m not dead?” Why did his voice sound so rough? His throat felt drier than sand, swallowing seemed impossible.

James’ eyes slid to Tony when he spoke, and he raised an eyebrow. He’d never really interacted with him so this made for a wonderful first impression. He chuckled. 

“No, you’re not dead. You almost were.” He didn’t do tact very well. 

“And… now I’m not,” Tony stated, honestly surprised. “How?”

Before answering, James poked his head into the hallway and told one of his men to call Steve and let him know Tony was awake. Turning back to him, he said, “Your brother ran into one of Steve’s men. You’ve met Steve, I’m sure you can imagine the rest.” 

“Who?” Tony asked completely disoriented. It couldn’t be. It _had_ to be. “Mr Rogers?”

James nodded, wondering how this relationship—or whatever it was—had gone on for so long without Tony knowing Steve’s first name. “Yes, him.” 

Tony closed his eyes, his head working way too fast and starting to hurt. He frowned in discomfort and shifted in his bed, realizing just how sore his whole body felt. “Who are you? And where’s my brother?” He asked once he managed to open his eyes again. 

“Most people call me Winter. You can also call me Winter.” Just because he was Steve’s fella didn’t mean James had to trust him. “He’s with Sarah.”

The whole situation seemed somewhat ridiculous to Tony at that point. 

“Who is Sarah?” He asked weakly, feeling how exhausted he was. Couldn’t he just go back to sleep? 

James scoffed, why was Steve the way he was? James leaned against the wall, eyeing Tony. Did he really know so little about Steve? Steve spent eighty-percent of their time together talking about this kid. He had immunity in all of Brooklyn and yet he knew jackshit about the man. Did he even know Steve was a mob boss?

“Sarah is… _Mr Rogers_ ’ mother. She’s a wonderful woman.” Saying that name made James want to laugh. He would definitely be teasing Steve with that in the near future.

“So, he’s safe?” Tony mumbled and forced his eyes open again to watch Winter answer him. He was as unreadable to Tony as Mr Rogers but he still wanted to see his face when he answered.

“In the safest hands in all of New York,” he replied without hesitation.

Tony smiled and closed his eyes again, drifting off. “Good. I can rest then,” he mumbled and fell asleep within seconds.

Steve arrived not long after the phone call was made, having to go home first and change. He debated pulling Benni out of school but figured, from what he knew of Tony’s protective nature, that he’d rather him not miss and be brought to the hospital afterwards. 

He came into the room and James wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Why does he know nothing about you?”

“Whaddya mean?” He asked, a little breathless, his eyes focused on the sleeping Tony.

“He doesn’t even know your name, Steve. Or who Sarah is. What else does he not know? Does he know you're blond?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “He knows enough. I didn’t want to force my friendship on him.”

“Friendship? So that’s what we’re calling it.”

“Aw, feck off,” he told him, going over to Tony and putting a hand on his own. He gave it a light squeeze in hopes he’d wake slowly, peacefully.

Even though he was asleep—and in a wonderful dreamless sleep at that—Tony woke up immediately when touched. For a split second he saw himself back in his bed with Benni next to him and Howard behind him. That picture quickly disappeared and instead he saw him. Mr Rogers. _Steve_.

Behind him was Winter, though he faded into the background easily.

Once he adjusted to the brightness again and had calmed his heart, he looked back to the man next to him. Why was his heart beating so fast again? It felt like panic but not quite. It was warmer, fluffier.

“Sir,” Tony mumbled. 

Steve was so happy to hear that voice he almost couldn’t control himself. He only barely stopped the fingers that wanted to brush Tony’s hair out of his face or the desire to plant a kiss on his forehead. Instead, in his usual manner, he smiled but kept a slight distance, no longer touching Tony’s hand.

James watched, highly confused and more than a little annoyed but he said nothing.

“How ya feeling?” Steve finally asked.

“Sore. Tired,” Tony mumbled and had to force his eyes to stay open, which took a lot of effort.

“Doctors said it’ll take a few weeks until you start feeling like yourself again. You’ve been out a week already, don’t know if he told you,” he said, jerking a thumb behind him at James who continued to watch, his poker face up and stronger than ever.

“Can you tell me what happened? Did you bring me here?” He asked slowly. He had a right to know, didn’t he? Then why did it feel wrong to ask? 

Steve sighed. “Your father happened.” He watched Tony’s face carefully. “I don’t know the reasons behind it but you took a brutal beating. You came here in an ambulance courtesy of James,” he added, again indicating towards him. 

Tony sat up as much as he could to look at the dark-haired man. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely and held himself up for another second before dropping back onto the bed. He knew why he took a beating. How could he forget? “Where... where is Howard now? Does he know where I am?”

“You’re welcome,” James said.

“He’s in a prison… of sorts and no, he has no clue where you are. Or Benni, for that matter,” Steve told him.

Tony could have cried from the relief he felt. He wouldn’t, he never did. But those words meant the world to him. Howard wouldn’t get to him. Or Benni. He didn’t know where they were.

“He wanted to kill me. I could see it in his eyes.” The words came out much too easily. Why did he even tell them that? It was obvious, wasn’t it? 

Steve made an angry noise and said firmly, “I wasn’t about to let that happen.” It disgusted him and it hurt him to think back to the dread he’d felt sprinting down those freezing blocks wondering if Tony was still going to be alive by the time he got there. “He’ll never lay another hand on you. Or anyone else for that matter.” 

One of James’ men came in and whispered something to him and James excused himself, telling Tony it was a pleasure to meet him. 

He watched him go and then looked back to Mr Rogers. The firmness of his words made everything better. 

“I don’t know why you’re doing any of this and by now I’m indebted to you more than I could ever pay you back but, Mr Rogers, sir, thank you. For taking care of my brother and me.”

Steve pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. He considered his next words and then said, “You don’t owe me anything and I never expected anything from you. Not in the beginning and certainly not now. I’m doing this because—”Lie? Half-lie? Vague response? “—I was in a similar situation to you before my father died. I wish I’d had someone help me and my ma out. Guess that someone for me was a disease,” he said, not mentioning it by name because he knew Tony’s sister had suffered a similar fate. “You’re welcome, Tony. And enough with the sir and the ‘Mr Rogers.’ It’s Steve.” So half-lie it was. 

Tony pressed his lips together for a moment and then he allowed himself to smile since there was nothing to be afraid of. 

“Thank you,” he said softly and looked into those bright blue eyes. He had the same softness about him that he did when he had tended to Tony’s wounds when they had been alone. “Thank you, Steve.” Saying his name out loud, to his face, it felt good. He liked saying his name. How he would have loved to stay like that, look at those blue eyes, admire his perfect looks.

“What... happens next?” Tony wanted to know about his future, about Benni’s future; what would happen once he got out of here. Even if Steve said he didn’t owe him anything, Tony would need to find a way to make it up to him, to show his gratitude.

Steve felt a warmth spread out from his stomach to his extremities at hearing Tony say his name. What he expected and what he wanted of course were two different things and the second he would do his best to keep squashed down. 

“Well,” he began and he felt nervous. It made him falter and come to a halt briefly. Why was he nervous? _Steve Rogers_ did not get nervous. He cleared his throat and continued. “Honestly, whatever you want. The deli’s there for you. Benni’s at my home with my ma and the two of them have got on like a house on fire,” he said with a smile. “Or I can set you up with somewhere new but I know the deli was your ma’s.” 

He kept how he was feeling about the whole situation to himself. He didn’t want Tony to choose one way or the other based on how he felt, on what Steve wanted. He wanted him to know—or at least _think_ —Steve had no preference but was willing to do whatever he wanted. 

Why did Tony feel disappointed? Because he was actually given a choice? “My mom’s dead. That place is… if I don’t have to, I’d rather not go back there.” But that was all he had. The store and his few belongings in the apartment above it.

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t. Stay with me. Benni’s happy, no point in uprooting the wee lad again. I can send some fellas to get your things.” He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, watching Tony’s expression and trying not to think about himself saying _stay with me_. 

Why couldn’t Tony look away from those eyes? Again his heart started beating faster. For Benni’s sake alone he wanted to say yes. His little brother who was so insecure and shy but liked the woman who now took care of him. The same woman who raised this beautiful man who was so kind to him because he knew what Tony was going through. He asked him to stay. 

“Even if I’ve got nothing to offer? To give?” Why did he feel so out of breath? Why was his heart beating even faster? Why was he hoping so desperately that Steve would tell him he was wrong? 

“I feel like I’m repeating myself,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not asking anything from you. I like you, Tony.” _Way more than I should_. “You’re good company. Keep being good company and wouldja look at that? You’ve got something to give.” He kept checking the door to make sure it was closed. He meant everything he said but that didn’t mean he meant for everyone to hear it. He knew he was inching too close to truths that weren’t allowed.

The warmth in his chest spread through his whole body, making him smile. And that was all he could feel or think. 

What did Tony ever do to deserve this? To deserve this kindness? And why did he have to wait and suffer so much?

“Thank you,” he said quietly and closed his eyes. “I’m really tired. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to say you’re sorry about,” Steve told him, standing. He checked his pocket watch and sighed internally. He was not ready to leave Tony’s bedside but he figured if he was tired it would be alright to go now. 

He debated with himself for a good five seconds before he reached out and touched the part of Tony’s head that wasn’t bandaged, just resting his hand there a moment while he spoke. “Sleep. My ma’ll be by a bit later with your brother.” _She’s eager to meet you_ , he wanted to add, _the first person to steal my heart in a long time_. 

Steve left a moment later, one of James’ men opening the door for him and shutting it again, giving him a small greeting as he passed. 

Tony leaned into the warm touch and sighed happily. Couldn’t he stay like that? It was easier than so much of Tony’s pain. 

“Alright,” he said and looked back at Steve. He wanted to say something else. _Don’t go. Stay. Be careful. See you later_. Nothing seemed to be appropriate, though, so he simply gave him another smile while he watched him go. 

The next time he woke up Benni was sitting on his bed staring at him.

“Tony!” The boy squealed and started crying almost immediately. Despite his pain and everything else, Tony moved to pull his brother into his arms and hug him tightly. 

“ _You were so brave. Thank you_ ,” Tony said in Italian, his voice soft and sincere. He rubbed his brother’s back and kissed the top of his head. He was so relieved to finally have him back with him. 

“Have you been good? Are you eating properly?” He asked and combed through his hair. The boy pulled away and wiped his tears, nodding. “Good. You’re so brave, _bambino_.” He kissed his brother’s forehead and smiled. It was only then that he noticed the woman in the room. Even if Steve hadn't told him his mother would come he would have recognized her as his mother. There was no question where he got it all from.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed much like how Steve stood, a happy smile on her face but it was all lip and no teeth, laugh lines prominent on her face. 

She walked over to him and dropped her arms, holding one up to shake his hand. 

“Hey there, boyo, pleasure finally making your acquaintance. I’ll give ya a proper squeeze when you’re feeling a wee bit better.” Her other hand was resting on Benni’s shoulder and he looked up at her with a smile that she returned. “This wee _leanbh_ has been an absolute delight to have around.” 

Tony gave her a warm smile and shook her hand. Hearing praise about his brother filled him with pride. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely, Benni still sitting close to him. Did he even remember their mother or was he too young when she died? “He has a lot of nightmares. Usually tucking him back in helps. And he is a picky eater,” he told her, feeling like he needed to help somehow.

Hearing Tony trying to take care of his little brother from his hospital bed when he couldn’t even _walk_ yet warmed Sarah’s heart. _This is a good one_ , she thought to herself. 

“I’ll remember that,” she replied, nodding even though she was no stranger to having a child with nightmares in her home. “How are _you_ feeling? I can ask one of Jimmy’s fellas to bring you some food, if ya like.” 

Tony had to honestly go through what he was feeling. The pain was nothing he couldn’t handle, even though he was sure his left arm was broken by the way it was bandaged. It would heal. When she mentioned food, he hummed. 

“Food would be nice, if you don’t mind.” He nodded, feeling like an awful burden that he had to depend on others. “I’m... it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He shrugged. “I’m just glad to see that Benni is fine.” Benni smiled, holding Tony’s hand.

Sarah knocked on the door and put in an order with one of the younger guys stood outside who treated her with the same level of respect as Steve. When she turned back to Tony and processed what he said, she laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve got a broken arm, you had a concussion, multiple lacerations, broken ribs and a punctured lung, boyo.” She picked up the chart at the end of the bed and browsed through, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Ah right, let’s not forget about the twenty-eight stitches you’ve got.” 

She put it down and walked back over to him, taking his hand. “There’s nothing weak about admitting you need help.” 

Tony looked away when she said the last sentence. He’d never needed help before. Not like this. Not that he would have gotten it anyway. It was a foreign concept to him, no matter how how he put it in his mind. 

“It’ll heal. It always does,” he said and managed to smile at her. He didn’t like that Benni heard all those things. If he had to, he would take a beating like that any day if it kept him safe. “Will you stay for a bit?” It was mainly so he could spend time with Benni without having to worry about Howard, chores, or anything else. 

She eyed him for a while, sizing up the damage his bastard father had done. She was glad James and Steve hadn’t told her where they were keeping him. She was another person who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him. 

“Of course, laddie,” she told him as the door opened and James’ men brought in three food trays. “Thank you, Dmitri,” she said to the one she had spoken to before. He nodded—almost bowed—to her and excused himself back outside. 

Sarah brought the food over to Tony herself and placed it on the little table that sat across his lap. She adjusted his bed gently so he could sit up, keeping an eye on his expression as she raised it. She knew those ribs—and everything else for that matter—were probably giving him a hell of a hard time. 

She sat with her own food after setting up Benni’s on the bed too and ate quietly while the boys talked. 

Benni told him about all the people he met and how much he learned already, not only at school but also from Sarah and Steve. Tony listened while eating slowly. Even though it was hospital food it was delicious to Tony. When did he last eat a warm meal like this? Tony had to remind Benni too to eat and basically fed him at one point. It had been so long since he could take all the time in the world to listen to him. Wherever Howard was, he didn’t know where _they_ were. 

“ _Cucciolo_ , listen,” Tony interrupted him. “ _Mama_ always loved you and so did Nella. Howard won’t get to you ever again, you understand, eh?” Benni nodded and took Tony’s hand. 

“He won’t get to you either,” the boy said with a maturity that didn’t really surprise Tony but was still amazing to see. “Cap promised that.”

“Cap?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, that’s what they call Steve. Did you know he fought in the war?” He imitated guns. “They told me stories about his plans!” 

“Did they now?” Tony smiled and listened to more excited rambling from Benni until he was truly exhausted from the whole day. Benni was also starting to get sleepy. 

Sarah sat silently, listening, watching the exchanges and how they worked together. It reminded her of a very young James and Steve and made her smile. When she looked up next, Tony’s eyes were half-closed and he was starting to drift. She knew Benni wasn’t ready to leave his brother and she had nowhere to go. It wasn’t even late yet so she’d let him fall asleep and carry him out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s a few days late. That’s on me (im95notdead) just being a tired and busy bee. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome home, Tony. (And Benni too!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bambino (Italian) - child  
> Aintín (Irish Gaelic) - aunt  
> Priyatnogo appetita (Russian) - bon appétit  
> maya dorogaya (Russian) - my dear

Steve took the letter out of his pocket as he rode in the elevator, James’ men behind him and Dugan beside him, joining only because he wanted to see Tony even if he had never said as much. 

He looked at the words there, his own. The warning he’d sent Howard that had more than likely only caused Tony more grief and yet he’d kept it along with the paper Steve had written his number down on. Steve felt the paper between his fingers; how it was no longer crisp and strong but soft, worn, the sign of something often picked up. He wanted to think about what that meant but figured it was nothing more than gratitude perhaps. 

He’d had everything else that seemed important moved from the deli to the room he’d set up for Tony in his own house. His room was right beside Benni’s and a door connected them for easy access. It was a few doors down from Steve’s own room and across the hall from Sarah’s. 

Tony was being discharged today and when the elevator doors opened, James was stood there waiting and he started walking ahead of them. Steve caught up and they spoke briefly about business before reaching Tony’s room. 

Steve knocked his knuckles lightly on the door frame as he walked in to give Tony a quick heads up. James kept walking down the hall to check on another VIP down the way, his men following him. Dugan came in beside Steve. 

“Looking good, kiddo,” Dugan told him with the world’s smallest smile. A smile that Tony might have missed had he not been looking at him. 

“Ready to blow this joint?” Steve asked, holding out a bag to him. It was a fresh hot dog he’d picked up on the way. James did well with the menu here compared to other hospitals but hospital food would always be hospital food. 

Tony couldn’t wait to leave the hospital, wear proper clothes and not a hospital gown anymore. There was also his curiosity to see Steve’s home, see how his mother and he lived. A proper home, probably. Sarah was a warm person, even warmer than Steve. It made Tony miss his own mother even more. 

Sarah had brought some old clothes of Steve’s from when he wasn’t as muscular—hard for Tony to believe there was ever such a time in his life—to wear when he was being discharged. He was sitting on the bed waiting to be picked up, holding the small teddy bear in his hand. It was all he had in that room. 

“Feeling better too,” Tony answered Dugan and nodded. It was true. Never before had he gotten this much sleep and rest. “Thanks for this.” He held the bear up, smiling when the man turned around with a small scoff. 

Tony accepted the hot dog and looked at Steve. “Can’t wait to get out of here,” he admitted and got up slowly. His movements were stiffer than ever. _That’s what you get for lying on your back two weeks_ , he thought bitterly. It took him an embarrassingly long time to get out of the room where James was standing. He wanted to thank him, again, but one look from James and he didn’t even say it. 

On their way down, Tony smiled while eating his hot dog. He was standing in the middle of no less than five large, muscular men, each one of them radiating strength and power. There was nowhere safer than there and then.

Steve and James exchanged a few near-silent words, more looks and gestures. 

“ _Still_?” he asked in Russian and Steve nodded. “Alright.”

James got off on the fifth floor, said there was something he needed to do, didn’t give specifics, and left them, his men following him out of the elevator. That left Steve, Dugan and Tony heading down to the ground floor. 

Dugan held the car door open and Steve let Tony in first and then he slid in after him, keeping space between them. He couldn’t help but look Tony over. He knew James meant ‘best care’ when he said it but he couldn’t keep himself from worrying. 

“Where to, Cap?” Dugan asked. 

“The office.” 

When they arrived, Dugan opened the door for Steve who got out and went around to Tony’s side but being where they were, he did not help him out. He let Dugan do it and then he walked inside, Tony following. They headed for the gym and then once he was sure the room was empty, Dugan unlocked the door that was near-invisible where it lay hidden in the shadows, and held it open for them.

“My home is not public knowledge for safety reasons,” he explained to Tony, now just the two of them. They walked the long corridor and came into another basement. This one was more of a gameroom complete with a pool table, dart boards, comfortable-looking couches and a shelf with books and board games. There was a chess table in the other corner that looked well-used. It was Steve’s favorite game. 

He led him upstairs to a huge entrance way and then around the corner to more stairs up to a second story. The floors were lined with a deep blue carpet over a dark-wood floor. Steve stopped at a door and pushed it open, motioning for Tony to enter. 

“This is yours. Benni’s is next to it. And that door there connects them,” Steve explained. 

Tony followed slowly and silently, taking in everything he saw. The other basement was simply beautiful and there was more to do down there than he could believe. How he wanted to check the bookshelf and see what he could read. Not wanting to be rude, he followed him upstairs, having to take breaks in between to catch his breath and let the pain pass before continuing. 

“This... all of it?” Tony asked and turned to look at Steve. “For me?” It was bigger than his shared room with Benni. Not that he was surprised at how spacious Steve’s home was but he didn’t expect any of this. It was like he had _expected_ that two people would come live with him but that couldn’t be. Had he emptied two rooms? 

The room was so warm. So inviting. And it had everything Tony ever dreamt of. The bed was bigger than Tony’s and Benni’s combined, the rug looked incredibly expensive and brand new. Not like any of the rugs they had in their small home. Nothing in that room could be compared to what Tony used to have. He spotted the pictures on the shelves and his breathing hitched. There his mother was smiling at baby Benni in her arms. Next to it his mother, sister and brother—he had cut out Howard and with that himself years ago—and then pictures of them separately. How he wished they were there with him. How he wished they could get all this and not him. 

“I keep saying this, I know. Thank you, Steve,” Tony said and turned around. “It’s beautiful.” The thick curtains were dark blue and Steve stood with his back to them. He fit in perfectly with the room. His posture perfect, the jacket over his shoulders and one hand in his pocket. The contrast between the blue of the curtains and the blue of his eyes was astonishing. 

“Are these your books?” Tony asked, trying to distract himself from his fast beating heart. It was probably the result of whatever the hell Howard had done to him. “Have you read them all?” He continued and moved back to the bookshelves. 

Steve watched Tony, assessing his reaction to everything. He seemed pleased. Steve could only hope. He knew it was more than he’d had before but maybe he preferred the smaller, simpler life. 

“Most are mine. Some I bought new.” _For you_. “I’d say I’ve read about sixty-percent. It’s a good way to work through stress,” he added. He stayed where he was across the room, not wanting to smother him, his hands on his belt now. 

“Is everything to your liking?” He asked. “I can change whatever’s not.” 

Tony sat down on the couch, unable to stand up anymore. Being able to let himself heal without new injuries was a new life to him. 

“It’s more than I could have ever hoped for,” Tony answered honestly. He would have accepted a lot less if it only meant staying away from that building he had spent his whole life in. If it meant that Benni would be safe and never go to bed hungry or cold again. “Thank you.”

Steve nodded in response to his thanks and watched him sit on the couch, clearly tired. It had escaped Steve’s mind that Tony had just left the hospital and was still recovering because Tony did such a good job of hiding it, looking strong. He knew what his mother would say to that, the same thing she told him when he behaved in a similar way: ‘There’s nothing weak about needing help.’ 

As if she knew she was being thought about, Sarah appeared at the door, knocking lightly and coming in with a glass of water and two pain tablets. She also had soup—traditional Irish leek and potato, one of her best dishes. Just the smell of it had Steve’s mouth watering. 

“There’s some more on the cooker in the kitchen for you, Steven,” she told him, making it very clear that he would have to get his own food. She was not running a hotel. He nodded and left out, figuring Tony might need a second to adjust anyway and Sarah had a gentler approach than he did. 

She put the food down on the little table that sat between the bookshelves and the couch where he was and then turned to him, a soft touch on his good shoulder as she leaned in to kiss his hair. When she pulled back, she ruffled it and said, “Eat up before it gets cold.” 

It was strange how comfortable Tony was around Sarah despite not knowing her at all. That of course didn’t mean that he liked being touched or that he wouldn’t flinch when she did. It had become an instinct and he had no control over it.

Though Sarah didn’t look at him like he was broken, Tony felt like he was. “Thank you,” he said softly feeling ashamed of his own reaction. He ate his soup slowly, the warmth of it and Sarah’s gentle presence making him even sleepier. She handed him the tablets with a glass of water and he took them. Before he knew it, he fell asleep on the couch, not even able to finish his soup. 

When he woke up again he was in his new bed. The sheets, the covers, even the pillows smelled new and so fresh. The mattress was incredibly comfortable, making Tony feel as if he was resting on a cloud. How did he get to the bed? From the other side of the door he heard Benni speaking to someone and then he even laughed. That sound was like music to his ears. Tony got up very slowly and moved to the door that connected their rooms. It felt only appropriate to knock before entering and so he did. 

“Hello _bambino_.” Tony smiled and Benni came rushing to hug him as carefully as he could. 

“You were sleeping when I came home. _Aintín_ Sarah told me to let you sleep. Are you better?” 

Tony rested his good hand on top of his head and nodded. 

“She’s teaching you Gaelic?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. I want to learn Italian to speak like you.” 

“You can do whatever you want to, _bambino_.”

“You’re looking better,” Steve said from where he sat in a chair that was slightly too small for him, in his relaxing clothes—just a pair of high-waisted black trousers with a white t-shirt tucked in and socks—a contented look on his face. 

Still holding his brother close he looked over at Steve. Was he the reason why he ended up in bed? There was no way Sarah could have carried him, right? Thinking about it made his heart beat fast _again_ and his ears felt like they were burning. 

“I think I fell asleep on your mom.” He was clearly embarrassed but there was only so much he could do about it now. His stomach growled and Benni laughed.

“We’ll have dinner soon.” Benni smiled and went to sit at his desk. Tony looked around the room and couldn’t believe how full it was. In every spot there was something else to see. It was as if Steve knew exactly what each of them had wanted for so long and then he simply gave it to them. 

Steve chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, she was just happy you got some more rest.” Steve stood, the chair hurting his back, and he moved to lean against the wall. Again, slightly on purpose to put more distance between him and Tony. 

He looked over at Benni drawing and craned his neck up to see the picture but it was out of his sight. He figured he would show it to him when it was done like he had the others he’d drawn. 

“He’s right. Ma’s making something delicious. Hey,” he added as an afterthought, his eyes roving over Tony, “you feeling up to a tour? The kitchen is downstairs. That way I can help you down anyway.” 

“If everything is as delicious as the soup earlier I’ll end up fat,” Tony chuckled lightly and Benni grinned at him. In only a few weeks Benni had already managed to gain weight and if that wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. His cheeks looked more pinchable than ever. 

“I’d love a tour.” Tony nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him in clothes that weren't a three piece suit but this time it was completely different. Throwing punches at someone else made him look even more fierce. Now he looked soft, private and sincere. Still strong and ready to act but also relaxed. “I’ll follow,” he said and pointed to the door leading to the hallway.

Steve gave him a brief tour of the second floor they were on. On the left side of the hallway were his and Benni’s rooms and their own bathrooms on either side. Across the hall was his mother’s room and bathroom plus another guest room. At the end of the hall was his room. They didn’t go into that one, he just pointed at the closed door. 

Steve did not plan on missing his one chance to take advantage of some physical contact. When Tony got to the stairs with him, he linked his arm through his good one and held him securely to his side using the stairs as an excuse. Tony still flinched but he didn’t protest, though Steve doubted he would have even if he’d wanted to and for that reason it was the last time he touched Tony that evening. 

He wanted Tony’s reactions to him to be natural, his own, not in response to who Steve was or what he was capable of. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he gently untangled their arms and walked a step ahead of him. 

He showed him the library-slash-study where he spent most of his time. It was a large room with high ceilings and large windows that lit the room naturally during the day. One entire wall was nothing but books—novels of almost every genre, encyclopedias, atlases, books on history, science, space. They were in English, Gaelic, French and Russian, the last two languages taught to him by James and his parents before they passed. There were also now Italian books in his home but they were all either in Tony or Benni’s room. 

There was a huge globe in one corner with Belfast, Leningrad, and New York marked on it. Couches sat in the middle and armchairs in every corner with their own personal overhead reading lamp. 

On the far end underneath the windows was a big wooden desk and behind that a record player and a stand full of records. 

“This is my favorite room,” Steve said.

“I can see why,” Tony said and looked at all the books. He could spend a lifetime reading and he’d probably still not be done with the amount of books in this house. “It’s absolutely beautiful.” And it reminded him of his own new bedroom. 

Tony moved to the windows and looked outside. For the first time in his life he admired the beauty of snow because here it was beautifully warm, no draft on his neck, the windows not letting in the cold either. He rested a hand against the window and watched people pass by unknowing of the beauty they couldn’t see behind these walls and windows. How they were missing out, Tony thought. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there watching the outside world but when he turned around Steve simply looked at him calmly and was that a smile? “How many of these books here have you read?” Tony asked and walked to the bookshelves. There were only a handful of books he had heard of. Most of the titles and authors meant nothing to him.

Steve glanced around. “I’d say a good portion of them. Some are just maps, so I skimmed them. The ones on the desk at the back I’m currently reading,” he told him, pointing to the stack of five books. “But I’d like to get through all of them some day. See anything you’d like to have in your own room?”

“There are more than enough books in my room for now. As soon as I’m done there, I’ll come back to you.” He wanted to ask about Steve’s favorite, books he could recommend and books he didn’t like but Tony didn’t. 

Steve showed him a few other rooms like downstairs toilets, closets, where exactly the door leading to the other building was, and then they reached the living room. 

It was another huge, open space with one large photograph on the wall of Sarah and Steve when he was much younger—perhaps in his teens, thin but grinning—and otherwise lots and lots of rural landscape paintings all chosen by Sarah who loved them because they reminded her of home. 

There were dark brown leather couches, more books scattered around the room, a few knickknacks here and there, a big coffee table between the two couches, and a fireplace with a huge comfy-looking rug in front of it. The fireplace was lit and warmed the whole room but even so, big wool blankets were laid neatly across the backs of the couches. In the far corner was a huge, shiny black baby grand piano. 

Tony’s hand ran over one of the wool blankets. Maria, his mother, had a blanket not unlike this, years ago. He remembered how Nella had been wrapped up in it when she was shivering despite her fever that refused to go down. Nella had been brought to a hospital in that blanket and after she passed they were told the blanket needed to be burned. Even though she never said so, Tony knew Maria had loved that blanket. Once Maria had told him how her mother had brought that blanket over to the U.S. when they first came here.

“This looks more like a room your mom uses,” Tony said. It had a female feel to it and he could see her sitting on one of those couches cross-stitching and listening to music. “I have never seen a fireplace as big as that one” He pointed to the fire, feeling its warmth on his face. Never cold again? That would be nice. 

Steve nodded. “Good eye,” he agreed. “This is her favorite one. She likes to sit right there.” He pointed to the end of the couch closest to the fireplace. On the little table beside it was a book and he could see the little piece of yarn sticking out that she always marked her pages with. 

Tony turned the book so he could see the title. Not that he had ever heard of it but he was curious what a woman like Sarah was reading. He gently touched the piece of yarn. Maria had been teaching Nella to use it to make scarves. Nella never got to finish her first scarf and Maria burned all the yarn in the house. 

“Have a favorite room yet?” Steve said, moving in closer to where he was, arms still tucked perfectly over him. “Benni knows this already, but you’re welcome to wander as you please. Only room off limits is my own.” 

Tony turned around to Steve, his eyes wandering over his muscular arms. “The library. Though the room downstairs is also amazing. Everything here is.” 

Steve nodded, pleased with that response. “Happy to hear it.” He turned, glancing back at Tony to follow. “One more room and if we take any more time getting there, she might be upset.” But there was a smile on his face as they headed for the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, the smell was heavenly. Sarah was at the stove, putting the finishing touches of melted butter over some rosemary potatoes. She sat them on the long, mahogany table along with the roasted chicken, homemade rolls, corn, asparagus, and gravy. 

“If you lot think this looks deadly wait till you see the dessert Jimmy’s made,” she said, looking over at the man who stood at the counter. He turned and grinned at Tony, drying his hands and coming to sit, also dressed in casual clothes though he had shown up in a suit. Had to keep up appearances, right? 

“Looks tops, ma,” Steve said, helping Tony to sit down and then sitting beside him. Benni took what seemed to be his usual seat, scooting up happily. 

Sarah cleared her throat and Steve realized he was supposed to be carving the chicken. He stood and began cutting slices for everyone. James chuckled and spoke to Tony in the meantime. 

“How are you liking it here? I realize it’s only been one day,” he said, helping himself to some potatoes and then passing them on to Sarah who put some on Benni’s plate and then her own. 

Tony sat down at the most beautiful table he had ever seen. Everything was rich and beautiful. Even the people in the house. Sarah had a timeless beauty about her and if he didn’t know that she had a grown son, he wouldn’t suspect her to be old enough to have him. James seemed cold at first but he wasn’t. Both Steve and he were strong, tall, well-built men but they were more different than he had realized. He couldn’t help but admire James’ face and his eyes. What color were they? They seemed grey, sometimes even whitish and yet with a hint of green and a lot of blue. 

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Tony answered his question. Benni was sitting at the table silently and Tony was proud that he showed he had good manners. There wasn’t much else Tony could have taught him over the years. “I might need a map to find my way around.” He smiled and rested a hand on the silver knife, his fingers running over the cold and beautiful metal. 

Since a few days ago at the hospital Tony hadn’t bothered to look at his reflection in a mirror. Days ago he had been hideous, his face covered with wounds and bruises in all shapes and colors. The stitches on two gashes on his head had been removed but even around them had been dark bruises. Tony didn’t fit in with this beautiful environment, these beautiful people. He didn’t deserve any of this. 

“I can show you,” Benni said happily, reaching out with his plate for the meat that Steve sat on it. James reached across and grabbed Tony’s plate, sending it up to Steve to load with meat and other food from the dishes near him and then he placed it back in front of him again. 

Tony waited until everyone had their food in front of them and Benni took his broken hand very carefully, signaling to him that they would say grace first. He hadn’t done that in years and he truly hoped no one would ask him to do it. 

Sarah looked around once, taking James’ hand when he held it out to her and her sons’ in the other. Steve was holding Benni’s hand, too. Sarah bowed her head and said a short prayer in English, mostly giving thanks for having Tony and Benni in their lives, good health, and a delicious meal in front of them and then she lifted her head and said, “Let’s eat, lads.” 

“Finally,” James laughed, putting more food than seemed strictly necessary or graceful on his fork but his manner of eating was otherwise painfully proper. As were Steve and Sarah’s. 

Benni took great delight in having to help his brother cut the meat for him, teasing him in Italian because he could. Tony didn’t react to the teasing and just thanked him for helping. It was too difficult to eat with the fork in his left hand. Seeing how quiet and neat the others ate, Tony wondered if they would mind. When everyone was still alive and well, there was always a lot of talking and laughter at the table, even if Howard disapproved. Maria loved to hear everything their kids wanted to share with her. It felt nice to be around others again and see his little brother behaving quite well too. Tony had to hold himself back from eating too fast. He felt like he was starving, probably looked like that too. The food was so delicious that he could have eaten everything on the table there and then. 

“It hasn’t been this quiet at the table since you two broke Mr Reynolds’ window and didn’t want to tell me,” Sarah commented. James chuckled and then it turned into a full on laugh. 

“Steve was just trying to get that bird’s attention, Mr Reynolds’ daughter. Who knew throwing a brick at glass would break it?” 

“You shut it,” Steve said, stabbing his fork in James’ direction. “You handed me the brick in the first place, you traitor.” James shrugged, still smiling and turned to Tony, pointing at Steve. 

“He’s the troublemaker, I’m the good one,” he teased and Steve nearly choked. Sarah was laughing too. “What?” James asked, faking offense. 

“If you’re the good one, I’m Japanese,” Sarah said and James’ mouth fell open briefly before he went back to eating, defeated. 

Tony covered his mouth when he had to laugh at the bickering around the table. Those three had a good thing going and he loved how they worked together. 

“Who throws things at a window to catch someone’s attention? Couldn’t you just talk to her?” 

“He’s got a point,” James said around a mouthful of potatoes, his posture relaxed now and his elbows on the table. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Steve sighed. “Look, you mook,” he started, looking at James but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a grin. “It was almost dark, I wanted to catch her attention so she’d come out because her old man was a real tough one.” 

“Well you certainly caught her attention, Stevie,” Sarah said, sending a grin Tony’s way. 

“A’right, fine,” Steve said, his accent slipping more and more away from Irish-American to simply Irish. “I see how it is.” 

“You sure? Because maybe Tony could give you some tips for next time.” Steve threw a roll at James’ head and he caught it and bit it. 

“Be civil, you two. Fightin’s fine but I draw the line at wasting my cookin’,” Sarah warned them. Not another piece of food was used as a weapon that night. 

“So, Tony,” James said, and he seemed to be the real talker though his public persona was much like Steve’s—quiet, concise, angry. “How would you have done it? Caught the bird’s notice?” 

“I’d slip her a note,” he stated simply with a shrug. “Wait for her in the morning when she’s headed out and accidentally walk into her, slip the note in her pocket and make a run for it.” 

James hummed in approval, nodding his head and looking at Steve as if to say ‘see? Much better.’ Steve ignored him and instead put more gravy on Benni’s plate when he asked and then grabbed a new roll since he’d given his to that jerk down there. 

“That tactic ever worked? Got yourself a bird?” James said, following up on his previous statement and catching the intense glare from Steve that Tony and Benni missed. 

Tony nearly choked on a vegetable but managed not to go into a coughing fit and took a sip from his water. “Never got to try it.” He felt quite ashamed at that. _Not many birds interested in a fella like me_ , he thought bitterly.

“You’re young, there’s time,” James said, and then added, gesturing to Tony’s face, “besides, I can’t imagine too many people would say no.” James used the word ‘people’ instead of ‘bird’ on purpose and it only irritated Steve more. That man had a way of subtly but successfully annoying Steve.

“You speak as if you were a hundred years old.” Tony chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll see, I guess.” First he needed to heal. Then came everything else.

James blew air out of his nose, a soft smile on his face. “Feels that way some days.” 

James walked the cake over to the table and sat it in the middle, Steve still putting out the dessert plates for everyone. It was a rule, whoever cooked thereafter did the least work and the cook was usually Sarah. 

“This is _medovik_ ,” he explained. He sat the golden, layered cake down with a self-satisfactory smile on his face. “It’s a Russian specialty my mother taught me to make.” 

“Your mother was an impressive cook,” Sarah said and James’ smile remained on his face as he cut a slice for each plate Steve handed him. 

“As is my second one,” he told her. He sat with his own slice and said, “ _Priyatnogo appetita_.” 

They ate for less than five seconds in silence and then Sarah spoke up. 

“How’s the pain, pet?” The question was of course directed at Tony. It had been a while she figured since he’d last taken a pain tablet. It must hurt. 

Tony didn’t have to tell Benni to help the others clear the table and once again he was quite proud of his brother. He hadn’t realized how grown he really was and that he didn’t need constant reminders for everything. 

“It looks delicious,” he told James. It did, but Tony felt full. He hadn’t had that kind of problem since Nella had passed. 

He gave Sarah a smile. “Painful. But it’s actually not that bad,” he lied and tried a piece of the cake instead of focusing on his aching and tired body. It was very sweet but not too sweet and it was delicious. The others continued to talk to each other while Tony enjoyed his dessert and listened. 

Afterwards he insisted on helping with the dishes and Sarah eventually accepted on the condition that he take another pain tablet. It seemed like an unfair deal but Tony nodded and she told James and Steve to get lost and take the little one with them to play. Tony watched them go and smiled softly. They looked so different here. 

“What should I call you?” Tony asked, unsure of how to address her. 

“What do you want to call me, pet?” She asked with a smile and wrapped an apron around him to keep his clothes clean while helping out. When he didn’t reply she looked at him while the sink filled with water. “Why don’t you call me Aintín for now, hm?”

She taught Tony how to properly pronounce it until he got it right. 

“Alright, _Aintín_. Why does Steve work with Russians? I thought he was head of the Irish mob.”

“They don’t work together but they have been friends since they were wee babbies and remained that way.” She rolled up her sleeves and started washing the dishes and handed them to Tony slowly for him to dry and stack next to him on a clean towel. “James is head of the Russian mob,” Sarah said casually and Tony almost dropped the plate she gave him. 

“What? Him? He’s known for being—” He didn’t know if he could and should go on. How was that even possible? 

“Ah, yes. But that’s business, pet. Don’t mistake that for who he is. He’s a good lad Jimmy,” she said. They continued to work in silence while Tony thought about the new information. The man who invited him into his home, gave Tony and his brother a home, the leader of the Irish mob, was friends with the leader of the Russian mob and Tony was standing in the kitchen drying the dishes after having a casual dinner with them. 

“What is your take on all this then?” Sarah asked as if she could read Tony’s mind. 

“All I know is that Beniamino is safe and quite happy. And Steve, he told me I could do whatever I wanted to do, which means that I never have to see Howard ever again.” He leaned against the counter and looked at the plates in front of him. “I was certain he would kill me. He wanted to and he tried to, too. I don’t know what it was but something made him stop and he couldn’t. Not only that but I was brought to a hospital, I was given medicine. You took my brother under your wing when you didn’t have to. I half expect to wake up from this dream any second now.” 

Sarah rinsed her hands under the water and placed a hand between his shoulder blades, not judging Tony for flinching at the unexpected touch. 

“That man will never lay a hand on you again, you hear me? Neither of them, or me for that matter, will let that happen.” 

Tony’s eyes filled with tears but he bit them back as always and he gave her a sincere smile instead. 

“Let me finish here and you take your brother and both of you get ready for bed. You should sleep.” 

“I’m really not tired and I won’t leave you to all this work.” She laughed softly, closing her eyes as she did. Steve looked exactly like his mother. How Tony wished he looked like his mother too. 

Together they finished doing the dishes, putting everything away and Sarah put the finishing touches on the table which was now covered under a beautiful table cloth. Tony changed the water in the vase and put the flowers back into it. Somehow he knew that Steve had gotten his mother those flowers.

The grandfather clock in the living room announced that it was Benni’s bedtime and Tony excused himself and went looking for his brother. He was surprised to find him in bed already, reading a book by himself. 

“You’re taking care of yourself now?” Tony asked and sat down on his bed. “You don’t need me anymore, eh?” He gently pinched a cheek and kissed it. 

“No, I will always need my big brother.” Benni insisted. “Will you read to me?”

“Of course. What is this book about?” 

“You can start from the beginning. Then you’ll know too,” he said and moved to lie down properly. Even though the door to the hallway was open, it wasn’t cold at all. And Tony was full, warm, and his brother taken care of. He kept going through those things in his mind in an attempt to make himself believe it was all real.

Only moments after he started reading the second chapter of this new book, Tony noticed that Benni was fast asleep already. He shifted the little body so he would be more comfortable and rested a hand over his stomach while watching him sleep for a while. Even in his sleep his little brother was now smiling and it was truly the best thing Tony had ever seen. 

As silently as possible he moved out of the room and to his. He could hear the others talking downstairs but he didn’t want to intrude more than he already had. He went to the bathroom and washed himself as much as he could with one hand, brushed his teeth and got dressed in his usual sleeping clothes that made him feel even more out of place. All the money he had was probably still on the floor in his room. Thinking back to that night made him shudder. 

Without turning on the lights Tony sat on the couch that was facing outside and watched the snow fall silently. When he moved to stretch his legs he noticed a blanket. Had that been always been there? ‘Always’ meaning the last twenty-four hours, since Tony himself hadn’t been there too long. He wrapped himself in the blanket, ignoring the throbbing in his left arm and continuing to watch the world outside. 

At some point he must have fallen asleep, curled up and comfortable on the couch. He woke up because he heard Benni calling his name. As soon as he heard him, Tony was up and found his brother in the dark. He was crying so hard that he hiccupped. 

“ _I couldn’t find you_ ,” he cried in Italian and the lights were turned on. Sarah stood in the doorway, closing her dressing gown. Tony was on his knees, hugging his brother close. “You were gone. I thought you were gone,” Benni continued to cry, breaking Tony’s heart with his words and tears.

“I’m not, _bambino_. I’m always with you,” he promised.

“But you weren’t! You told me to run! You told me to go!” Benni cried and punched his brother weakly. Normally it wouldn’t have hurt but Tony’s whole body was aching and so it did. Yes, he had told him that because he thought that, if he didn’t, Howard would not only kill Tony but also Benni and he wasn’t about to let that happen. 

Sarah leaned down to them, gently pulling Benni away and making him drink a bit of water which helped the boy to calm his breathing, though he was still holding Tony’s good hand tightly. 

“Sorry you woke up,” Tony spoke softly, guiding Benni to his bed and making him curl up. 

“Hush and go to sleep, pet, I’m fine,” Sarah said and gently guided Tony into Benni’s bed, tucked both in, and gave each of them a good night kiss on the forehead, turning the lights back off and closing the door. Tony held his brother but was unable to go back to sleep. He had no idea how much this all had affected Benni despite all his efforts to keep the boy safe from the beating. Now he realized that he had had the same experience as Tony but as bystander and not as the one taking a beating. 

Sarah headed back downstairs to give James her love and say goodbye. It was going on 1am but he needed to be back in the morning. He had some business that required him specifically though normally on weekends he took personal time. 

“Give it time,” James told Steve, a hand on his shoulder that moved up to his neck and finally his cheek. He patted it once and then dropped his hand back to his side and into his pocket. Sarah watched him as she entered, saw that the hand was in a fist. 

“Yeah. I know, I know. I’m just taking a step back right now. There’s a good chance that all the time in the world won’t matter,” he said. James gave him a look. He hated when Steve got all self-deprecating and defeatist. Worst part was, he only ever got that way about himself, never his work or his business or anyone around him. “This was nice. I’m glad you’ve had time to come around lately.” 

“Anything for mama Rogers,” he said, turning to acknowledge her and Steve did too, love on his face for his mother. 

They hugged briefly and then Steve left to peek into the boys’ room and make sure all was still well, saying he would be back down to walk James all the way out. Sarah walked James down into the basement, reaching out to link her arm with his as they descended the stairs. 

“You should just tell him,” she said. He scoffed. 

“Not the right time.” 

“It never will be with that attitude.” 

“Exactly, _maya dorogaya_ , it never will be. Perhaps that is a sign to leave it be.” 

“You two were so good together back in the day.” 

James’ eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t aware you knew.” 

Sarah laughed. “Have you met me, James? Of course I knew.” James shook his head lightly and stopped at the door, looking at the ground. She grabbed his hand and he met her eyes, a sad smile on his face. 

“It will do more harm than good. If I told him now it would be purely for selfish reasons.” 

“Maybe sometimes you have to be a wee bit selfish.” He laughed but didn’t comment more and in that moment Steve arrived and walked him through. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah takes the boys shopping, James and Steve visit Howard (gross), and Steve's proper grammar goes flying out the window when he's tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghrá (Irish Gaelic) - love (term of endearment)  
> cucciolo (Italian) - puppy  
> orsetto (Italian) - baby bear  
> va bene? (Italian) - all good?  
> sì, andiamo (Italian) - yes, let's go  
> Mo chara (Irish Gaelic) - my friend

It was the weekend and Tony didn’t know what to do with himself. It was his first day in his new home, he didn’t have to work, there were no chores for him to do, and it frightened him. He was on edge, feeling like he was forgetting things, like any moment now Howard would come and yell at him, tell him about the things he should have gotten done, but no such thing happened. 

Sarah, Benni, and he had breakfast. What was he supposed to do with all the food? He was still full from the rich dinner and dessert. He managed to eat half a roll and some of the scrambled eggs. Sarah took Benni to teach him some things and do his homework with him. He was eager to learn and finally he had someone who could take their time to teach him everything he wanted to know, which unfortunately left Tony feeling even more useless than before. 

He decided to get familiar with the house and walked through it, apart from Sarah’s and, of course, Steve’s rooms. He took his time, careful not to tire himself out so early in the day. 

Some time later he ended up in the library and explored it some more. There was a shelf full of records that he didn’t notice yesterday so he went to browse through them. There were only a few artists of which he had heard. Careful not to scratch the record, he pulled it out and started playing it. The room filled with soft jazz, inviting the listener to sit and relax. He went from shelf to shelf to look at each and every book, his fingers gently running over the spines. 

He chose a book of crime short stories and settled on one of the couches to read the first one. It wasn’t a very interesting or long one but it took Tony a long time to relax and focus on the words he was reading. Why did he feel like Steve was watching him? He did allow Tony to come here and read. Only his bedroom was off limits. Right? 

Once he had finished the story he put the book back, stopped the record and fixed everything the way it was before, as if he had never been there and yet it seemed Steve followed him to his bedroom. When he chose another book and started reading it, again he couldn’t focus because he could feel Steve’s gaze on him. But there was no way Tony was doing something wrong. 

Tony opened the window to let in some cool and fresh air, shivering at the temperature difference between outside and in his room but still enjoying being bundled up and breathing in the winter air. Was this what his life was going to be like now? No need to do anything? And then what? 

“Are you planning to catch your death?” Sarah scolded Tony, coming to close the window. “Sitting right there, wind in your face. Is your list of injuries not long enough yet?” She scoffed and shook her head, making Tony feel awful for what he had done.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted to clear my mind.”

“Ah, and what is there to clear?” she asked gently, sitting down next to him. 

“I feel useless around here. I’ve got nothing to do,” he admitted and wondered again why it was so easy to trust Sarah, even though he didn’t know her. “Benni has you now and Steve, and James, too. He has more than enough to learn and to do. He doesn’t need me anymore. There’s no store to run, no food to prepare, no coffee to make. Nothing.” 

Sarah looked at him with a loving gaze and reached out to touch Tony’s cheek. He did move away a little but managed not to flinch. 

“Your job right now is to heal and get well. Yer not used to that, I know.” She rested her hand on his hand. “If you want, we can go out. There are some things that need to get done. I could use two lads to help carry everything.”

“Yes, of course.” Tony nodded without hesitation. Again she made Tony agree to taking a pain tablet before she would allow him to come with and so he did. 

Sarah called a car and helped Tony into his thin coat, wrapping one of Steve’s scarves around him. The smell was heavenly. It smelled _exactly_ like him, which made Tony wonder when he had managed to actually smell him. And who did that anyway? What was wrong with him lately?

The car was outside when they stepped out and it was nice and warm inside. Sarah told the driver where she wanted to go and he took them there. It was in a corner of Brooklyn Tony had never been to before. They stopped in front of a menswear store and Sarah told the driver to make himself comfortable. 

Inside the store they didn’t have to wait a single second to be greeted by a man in a beautiful suit, leading them to a more secluded part of the store where they weren’t easily spotted. He offered them water and biscuits immediately, bringing a comfortable chair over for Sarah.

“These young men need to be fitted for clothing. Underwear, undershirts, both winter and summer, one suit each, and casual clothing. Something for the little man to grow into. Nothing too tight for either of them. I plan on feeding them properly.” The man nodded and went to get another person to help him take measurements. 

“ _Aintín_ , what are you doing? I don’t have any money,” Tony whispered, not liking this one bit.

“You’re one of us now, _a ghrá_. Everything will be taken care of.” She held his hand and gave it a small but reassuring pat. Even though she meant well, Tony felt awful and heavy. He couldn’t hold still while strangers were walking around him, touching him, turning him and measuring every inch of his body. At one point Sarah stopped them and told them to continue with Benni while she looked around with Tony. She didn’t mention how jumpy Tony was, how he couldn’t trust those people, didn’t make him feel bad for his stern and sad face. Nothing. She simply held up different undershirts to see which one might fit him and used his good arm to carry everything. 

They went back to put the things on a pile and Sarah asked the man to give her the measuring tape and took the measurements herself. It did help with Tony’s jumpiness but it was also embarrassing. Every now and then she smiled at him and told him he was doing grand. Soon the pile for each of them was more than all his and Benni’s clothes combined. 

“We’ll need two coats for each of them as well, scarves, gloves and a big boy hat for Benni,” she said and made Tony sit down. “You be good, I’ll handle everything.” She gave him a glass of water and went to choose whatever it was she just said. Tony was feeling overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to sleep. 

“ _A ghrá_ , do you know your shoe size?” Sarah called from where she was standing. It took several attempts before Tony managed to answer the question. He was so exhausted he didn’t even want to ask why she wanted to know it. Whatever he needed to do to get into his bed, he would do it. Until then Tony would simply sit there and stare into the space between mirrors, not focusing on anything and ignoring everything. 

“Tony? _Orsetto_?” Tony smiled at the second word and looked at Benni who smiled right back at him. 

“ _Cucciolo_?” he asked lovingly.

“ _Va bene_?”

“ _Sì. Andiamo_?” 

Benni reached his hand out and led Tony to the car, staying close to his brother the whole ride until they were back and Tony was on the couch. Sarah didn’t like him in his street clothes in his clean bed. She covered Tony up. 

“You did a lot today. Do you feel better?”

“Just really tired,” he admitted and she leaned in to give him a kiss on his forehead. 

“I’ll leave the curtains open while you nap.” He nodded, closing his eyes and already drifting off to sleep.

When he woke up he felt quite disoriented. His head was hurting and his throat was dry. If he was totally honest he barely remembered the drive back, walking to the house or any of it. Tony got up and folded the blanket neatly. It was already dark outside but that didn’t have to mean anything since it was still the middle of winter. While watching the streets outside Tony got lost in his thoughts again, barely hearing a knock on his door. 

“I was about to wake you,” he heard Sarah say. It took some effort to turn around and focus on her but eventually he managed. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. How about Benni and you take a bath, get changed and come down to the kitchen, hm?” 

Tony nodded and did as he was told. Not having to decide for himself was something he was really good at. Freshly bathed—and without wetting his bandaged left arm—and in fresh clothes they went to the kitchen where the table was set and Sarah was tasting the food. 

Steve didn’t come to dinner, which was unfortunate because Tony didn’t see him all day and he really wanted to. He told himself that it was to talk to him about all the money his mother spent on him and Beniamino. That didn’t seem appropriate since he wasn’t doing anything to earn his keep. Sure, that was one reason why he wanted to talk to Steve. The other reason was because he simply wanted to. 

“You’re the first lad to eat this little of my food!” Sarah scolded Tony and he looked to his half full plate. 

“I’m not used to this much food, _aintín_. Your food is delicious. I eat a lot but in small portions.” That wasn’t entirely true but eating a little every now and then was easier for him than eating three big meals.

“Ah, like Stevie. Why didn’t you say so?”

He was like Steve? Why did that thought make him smile? 

“Is he not coming tonight?” Tony asked not looking at Sarah.

“Your guess is as good as mine. He probably has work to do. Sometimes he comes home late.” 

Tony nodded in response and that was that. 

After dinner he got his brother ready for bed, they brushed their teeth, he read him another chapter in his book and kissed him goodnight before heading back downstairs with his own book. It was then that he noticed he hadn’t seen a television in this house yet and somehow he preferred it this way. 

Sarah was reading while soft music played and Tony joined her to read as well. Having slept all day, he didn’t feel too tired, though, if he did lie down, he’d probably fall asleep. Eventually Sarah was about to go to bed when they heard the door open and someone coming up the stairs. 

There he was. Looking tired and very stern. But there was Steve. Sarah spoke to him in Gaelic, pointing to the kitchen once but Steve shook his head. He looked right at Tony and Tony looked away for whatever reason. 

“Welcome home,” Tony said and set his book aside, feeling rather impolite just sitting there doing nothing.

+

_Earlier that same morning_

Steve checked his pocket watch, sitting on the side of his bed, fully dressed, bed made, at 5am. He rubbed a hand over his face. He told James he would meet him at the hospital this morning rather than in the evening because neither of them really wanted to finish their day that way and James already had prior business to attend to at the hospital. 

He stood and made his way downstairs, grabbing an apple as he passed, and going into the basement and through the passageway. Somedays he truly valued the protection afforded him by keeping his home a secret. Other days, he wished he could walk out as freely as his mother did. 

Dugan had the car ready by the time he got outside and he slipped into the passenger's seat, just the two of them. He trusted Jones and Falsworth but Dugan would always be his closest confidant of all the Irish, save of course for his mother. 

“Early start, ay?” Dugan asked, after ten minutes of silence. 

“Yes.” And then, “I told you I would drive myself. Didn’t need to ruin your Saturday on my behalf.” 

Dugan scoffed. “You protected my life in the war, I’ll protect yours here.” 

They pulled up around back and went inside, James’ right hand man, Dmitri opening the back exit for them and greeting them both. Steve ate his apple as they made their way to the fifth floor where there was a permanently closed wing. It had been closed since the start of the Great Depression and World War Two hadn’t seen it in operation either. James tended to use it for unsavory business. Now it was being used for just one person. 

James was leaning outside the door nibbling on a piece of gingerbread one of the babushkas near him had given him. You see, James’ home _was_ public knowledge; there was just no one stupid enough to risk trying anything. And while Steve was not thought to be an easy or merciful target, he had his mother to worry about. Her alone, no one would dare go after her to get to him—too risky to fail and incur Steve _and_ James’ wrath—but if she were to get caught in the crossfire of an attempt on his life, he’d never forgive himself. 

“You are _late_ ,” James said, shaking his cookie at him. Steve snatched it and finished it. “ _And_ you are an asshole.” 

Dugan and Dmitri stayed outside the door, talking amongst themselves. In all their years of working together, they’d struck up quite the friendship as well and both had that same unshakable sense of loyalty to their bosses, especially knowing everything they did about them. 

“He's over there, more pathetic than the last time you visited,” James told him, pointing vaguely towards Howard with the least amount of effort possible, taking another piece of ginger bread out of his pocket and moving away from Steve this time. “We should put him in a proper holding cell.” 

“Why? Starting to feel sorry for him?”

“Don’t insult me like that,” he said, turning and finishing his thought in Russian so Howard would not understand, “ _but he’s not going to live long enough for the boy to be ready if we don't._ ” 

Steve looked at him long and hard and then sighed. “Fine.” He walked over to Howard and kicked him, watching in disgust as he toppled over sadly. He looked almost as bad as Tony had when they’d found him. _Almost_. 

Steve used his shoe to turn the man’s face left and right, see the sunken in cheeks from malnourishment and the black eye, the cuts—some healed, some fresh. As in _that morning_ fresh. Steve looked over at James who shrugged and continued crunching on his treat. 

“ _What? I spent a whole evening with the Benni and Tony, you really expect me not to hurt him some more?_ ” He had a point. “Okay, so we move him. Moving on,” he said, walking with Steve back towards the door and then he stopped, his business face on. “There are more important issues.”

Steve waited, figuring anything to do with Howard Stark did not warrant getting three hours of sleep, so there must have been something else on his mind. 

“A very nice woman in my neighborhood was robbed at gunpoint. By two of your men. Three of mine saw but were not able to apprehend them.” 

“Alright, you want me to interrogate my men?” 

“No, I’m coming to you as your friend. I want your permission to… stop them.” 

Steve laughed. “ _Mo chara_ , my men know we have a tacit truce with you and yours. You don’t need my permission when they conveniently forget.” 

James laughed and nodded. “One last thing before we go back out.” He glanced back to the far corner where Howard was, assuming he was unconscious but on the chance he wasn’t, he continued in Russian, “ _how’s the boy?”_

 _“Didn’t see him this morning_ ,” Steve responded in Russian. “ _But when I peeked in this on the way out, he was sleeping soundly.”_

“ _Good, good. You planning on ever talking to him? I watched you last night, you wouldn’t have said a single word to him if it weren’t for Sarah and I.”_ Steve sighed, not planning on answering, so James just punched him in the arm. “ _Talk to him._ ” 

That evening when Steve finally got home after meeting face-to-face with the traitors to let them know this was not an act of Russian aggression but rather the consequences of their own actions, he was exhausted. 

Now heading through the hallway again, he started loosening his tie, unbuttoning his waistcoat. By the time he reached the ground floor he could hear the soft jazz wafting his way and he followed it into the library where he found his mother and Tony, each with their own books. 

“ _There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry, love.”_ He shook his head, turning his attention to Tony as he completely removed his tie, jacket and waistcoat. 

Tony welcomed him home and that struck a chord in Steve. Even if he hadn’t meant it that way it was something wonderful to hear him say ‘home’. When he looked away, Steve shot his mother a look who shrugged and stretched, standing up and announcing that she would be turning in for the night. 

“Big day ahead of you tomorrow?” Sarah asked her son before stepping out of the room. Steve shook his head and yawned. 

“No. I’m not needed tomorrow.” He might’ve been but he would not be going. And in all truth, a lot of what he’d handled lately did not warrant his presence normally but he was sending a message. With the business he and James had handled this morning, the message had been sent loud and clear. Now Steve could sit back a little and hand back over to Dugan, Jones and Falsworth the work they already normally did. 

“That’s grand, love. A Sunday together. Would you look at me? I’ll probably be grinning like a Cheshire Cat in my sleep,” she said and Steve’s tired expression quickly faded and he broke out into a smile. “Lovely, that’s what I was waiting for. A’right, sleep well and don’t stay up all night chinwaggin’.” She blew them both a kiss and left. 

Steve plopped onto the couch across from Tony with a sigh, his head back and arms stretched along the back of the couch. He unbuttoned his overshirt and pulled his shirt untucked. He was tired of suits and he just wanted to be home in his comfortable clothes. After a moment he lifted his head enough to look at Tony, his own eyes barely open. The last couple weeks had been… a _lot_. 

When he caught those brown eyes, he didn’t care how much work he’d been doing. He didn’t care how tired he was or how his muscles ached. Those eyes and the person attached to them being safe and sound—Benni as well—made it all worth it. 

Steve nodded towards his book. “Whatcha reading?” Tony’s new clothes also hadn’t escaped his notice but he figured getting into a conversation over Sarah buying him wardrobes worth of expensive clothing would just be more tiring. They could have that talk tomorrow. 

Tony sat up, not wanting to lie around impolitely around Steve. 

“The Secret Garden,” he told him. “It was on my bookshelf.” He held the book in his hand and studied it intently. All day he had wanted to talk to Steve. Now he got the chance and he didn’t know what to say. 

Steve gave him a tired smile. “Like it so far?” He was going to take James’ advice. Well not advice, _command_. He would talk to him. He wouldn’t push any personal agenda, just… talk. “I remember reading it when I was Benni’s age. Always liked it.”

“Yes, it’s nice,” he answered. He hadn’t gotten too far because it was difficult to focus on only reading while there were so many things to worry about. “Did you read a lot growing up?” 

“As much as I could. Or else ma would read aloud whatever she’d recently picked up,” he told him, the memory bright in his mind, one of the better childhood ones. Life was not always ‘which bespoke suit shall I wear today?’ “What’s your go-to genre? I noticed the books from your old room and I got you new copies.” He’d kept the old ones as well, putting them with the other few things he’d brought from the deli just in case Tony wanted them.

He smiled and shifted to sit more comfortably. “ _Mama_ loved crime stories and police stories too.” The memory of his own mother made him sigh softly. She would have loved this house and everything—and everyone—in it. “I read whatever she wanted me to read. After Nella died that stopped. _Mama_ got rid of many things.” Those books Steve had seen and gotten new copies of… as grateful as he was for that, those three books had been Maria’s favorites and one of the few things Tony had of his mother’s. He didn’t need things to remember his mother but still it was nice to touch something she had touched so many times. He did appreciate him going out of his way and getting him new versions though. “I didn’t get to read a lot after that. This is new to me.” He tapped his index finger on the book cover and shrugged. 

Steve was sitting up more now, more awake, listening to Tony. He realized then and there that he’d never really gotten Tony to talk a lot. Conversations here and there, answers to Steve’s questions and remarks but not a lot of talking. Dinner had been the most and this was second place. Steve’s heart fluttered once again—as it had at dinner—at hearing Tony’s accent. 

“I’m sorry about that, Tony. I’m happy you can start up again.” He hesitated but figured he’d rather keep Tony talking for a bit than avoid seeing the face Tony was sure to make at the mention of the new clothes. “What did you get up to today?” 

“That’s alright. I’ve got more books than I can ever read now.” He gave him a small smile. “Your mom took us shopping. I wouldn’t have gone had she said so but she wouldn’t accept—she probably spent a lot of money. I’m sorry.” He looked at the floor and closed his eyes. 

“Sorry? For the mon _—Tony_.” Steve leaned all the way up now, his elbows rested on his knees, his face sincere but his tone non-negotiable. “I know it will take some gettin’ used to,” he said, dropping G’s the tireder he got but also the more relaxed he got. “But this—” he gestured to the room around him and then a wider motion to include the house “—is yours now. And Benni’s. Perhaps a slightly easier truth to accept for now is that no one can stop my ma from doin’ anythin’ she’s put her mind to.” 

Tony dared to look up when Steve moved. He knew he didn’t have to be afraid of any physical consequences for what he said. Not with him. It was still just a force of habit. He was rubbing his hand over his knee while he tried to figure out what to say. “Thank you,” he said with a quiet but sincere voice. “I… I’m really grateful for what you’re doing.”

“For what I’ve done,” he corrected firmly, moving to sit next to Tony, instinctively putting a hand on his knee again. “This isn’t a temporary thing. I’ve done it. It’s— _you’re_ —not going anywhere.” He needed Tony to understand that there was no expiration date on what had happened. Tony wasn’t expected to live with them until he could get back on his own two feet but rather: “This is your home for as long as you want it.” 

There that touch was again. The gentle warmth that spread throughout his body, making his stomach flutter in the most unusual way. 

“It’s not done for me. You keep doing it,” he said and felt his ears burn at his own words but he managed to keep looking him in his beautiful eyes. “Will you at least let me help around? Your mom is adamant that I laze about.”

“Well,” he said, happy for the eye contact he rarely got for so long, “it may be my house but _she’s_ the boss. You’ll have to talk to her about that one but, way I see it, wait till you’re healed properly and she’ll likely start givin’ ya more to do.” 

When the fluttering in his heart and stomach got to be too much he looked away, still smiling. “Apart from my arm I’m all healed.” It was a lie, of course it was, but he wanted it to be true. 

Steve laughed, wishing Tony hadn’t looked away. “I can tell you’re lyin’ just by lookin’ at the way you’re sittin’ here. When you’re healed, we might put you to work. Until then, enjoy unemployment,” he said with a yawn. It was almost 2am and Steve was starting to feel the exhaustion in his limbs, making them heavy. He wanted to keep talking so badly but he just could not right now.

Never before had he thought about the possibility of not having to do anything and now he was told to enjoy it. Since he had met Steve his life had developed an even weirder sense of humor it seemed. “If you say so, Mr Rogers,” Tony smiled and leaned back. 

“I’m going to have to call it as well. You coming?” He asked, standing and looking down at Tony with a smile. He reached over to grab his discarded clothing from the other couch and moved slowly towards the door, waiting for Tony’s response. 

“I’ll come with,” he nodded and got up to stop the record, following Steve upstairs. He was walking behind him, unable to resist staring at his back and further down below noticing once again just how incredibly well built Steve was and making Tony look even smaller in comparison. They stopped in front of Tony’s door, which Steve opened for him and then gave him a simple, “Goodnight, Tony”. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” he replied and took his time to enter the bedroom. 

Once inside, Tony took Maria’s favorite book off of the shelf and hugged it tightly. How he missed his mother. That night he dreamt of her and his sister smiling at him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's very confused. The Stark-Rogers go on a day outing! Steve and Tony have a little chat.

In the morning he woke up to Benni talking to him. When he managed to open his eyes he saw that his brother was reading to him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Waking you up.”

“By reading to me?”

“ _Aintín_ says I need to practice reading out loud.” Tony nodded and closed his eyes again. “No, let’s go have breakfast. I‘m so hungry.” Benni pulled the covers away to get his brother out of bed. 

Together they got dressed in their casual clothes before going to the kitchen. Sarah had outdone herself, offering up pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fresh rolls. 

“I hope you’re inviting everyone in the street because that should feed them all,” Tony greeted Sarah.

“You haven’t seen my boy when he’s hungry. Going to bed without dinner! Oh he’ll be hungry like a bear.” She smiled the way only a mother could and it was absolutely beautiful. Steve had told him he knew what Tony was going through, which meant Sarah had been witness to those things as well. And yet they had overcome it all. Did that mean Benni and Tony would too?

They started eating without Steve—but not without saying grace—because Sarah wanted Steve to sleep in properly. By the time they were done and had talked about what Benni had learned, it was nearing noon and there was still no sign of Steve. 

“Be a good lad and go wake him up. He’s going to sleep through the whole day at this rate.” 

Grateful to be given something he could do, Tony made his way upstairs. Steve had told him that his mother was the boss and she had asked Tony to wake him, which meant his bedroom wasn’t off-limits now. The realization that he was about to see Steve’s bedroom hit him when his hand touched the door handle. Was he the neat type? Or rather messy? What would it look like inside? Warm and cozy like the rest of the house? Was it decorated in his favorite colors? What _were_ his favorite colors? 

After a moment’s hesitation he pushed all those thoughts away and opened the door. And then he was greeted with blue and a wave of Steve’s scent. After his eyes got used to the darkness he looked around. Another big bed, a lot more pillows though, the same shades of blue; his hat balanced on a lamp next to a big desk with folders, papers and a briefcase next to it. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office. Tony looked at the walls and paintings. He tiptoed into the room to get a closer look and opened the curtains to let in a little light to examine the picture further. Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real. 

From behind him he heard Steve snoring softly and his heart nearly skipped a beat. He snored. Steve Rogers, head of the Irish mob _snored._ And Tony knew that now. 

He went back to exploring the room because he simply had to know more about Steve but was too afraid to actually ask him. A row of pictures were on the shelves. Sarah hadn’t changed a bit, the smile lines only adding to her beauty. He could see Steve grow up, his face changing a lot over the years. In one picture with who he assumed was Steve’s father, he saw a look on Steve’s face that he knew all too well. A look of hate, disgust but also sadness. He really did know what Tony had been going through. Then there were pictures of Steve with James over the years. 

Behind the pictures he saw three books lying in front of the other books and they looked as if they had been read over and over again, much like the books Tony had from his mother. Never would he have thought that Steve liked _Alice in Wonderland_. Nella read it when she was younger and Tony found it disturbingly absurd and nonsensical. One day he would ask Steve about it if he ever got the chance to do so. 

Tony turned and looked at the whole room again. That was him. All this was Steve and what meant most to him. And oddly enough, if anyone had asked Tony to describe his room, it would have been exactly this. Slowly he opened the curtains, letting in the soft winter light. With Steve’s name on his lips he turned around to wake him but upon seeing Steve lying there he froze. 

His hair was a mess, all ruffled up. His arms were around one pillow, one half of his face pressed against another one, his lips slightly parted. And dear lord, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Steve Rogers wasn’t wearing a shirt. And his sleeping pants were hanging awfully low. And Tony couldn’t move, only stare. There were smaller scars all over his back, some from knives, others looked more like scratches and tears. And was that a scar from a gunshot wound? After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally managed to breathe and move again. 

“Steve,” he said softly, his voice still shaky. “Wake up. It’s noon.” He moved to open the curtains the rest of the way, effectively waking him up, and then Steve rolled onto his back, one arm covering his eyes and now showing off his _gorgeous_ upper body. 

“Oh dear lord,” Tony gasped quietly, his gaze glued to Steve’s abdomen and the v-shape that was visible because of the pants shifting more. The small hairs leading from his belly button further down were darker. What was he supposed to do with that information? 

When he moved again he felt his body’s reaction to what he was thinking and it scared him. What was happening? _Why_ was it happening? 

“Steve, c’mon. Sarah is waiting. And so is breakfast.” Tony spoke hurriedly and rushed out of the room to his bathroom, locking the door and sliding down behind it. 

What was happening? Why? How? Was he jealous that he didn’t look anything like him? Was it gratitude because he had saved him? Was he so desperate for attention that his body reacted like _this_? 

Tony washed his face, looking at his reflection. There were still yellow and greenish leftovers from the bruises, the stitched up wounds were red and looked angry but other than that his face was back to normal. A face that looked nothing like Steve’s. Nowhere near that perfect face with those bright eyes. 

And now Tony had seen him partially naked. 

He washed his face again and pushed those thoughts down. As far down and away as he could. Maybe once he was healed he could start working out too and work on his own body. Then he’d feel better about himself too. 

Tony went back downstairs and shortly after him Steve came in. His hair was perfectly styled and even though he was in casual clothes, he looked neat. There was no evidence of his sleepy, snoring, ruffled-hair self left.

Steve sat on the side of the bed contemplating if he was more hungry or tired. Eventually hunger won out and he stood, stretching, and picked up his shirt from where he’d left it folded last night, not even bothering to put it on. 

He took a moment to think back to waking up, noticing the curtains that weren’t open when he’d gone to sleep and then he remembered Tony’s voice. Sarah must’ve sent him up but he’d run out before Steve could get a proper look at him. Why?

He grabbed his house robe and wrapped it around himself, sliding on his slippers and heading downstairs where he found them all still gathered around the table chatting. Tony didn’t look at him long before his eyes were elsewhere and Steve couldn’t help but frown. 

“Apparently we had more food than you can shake a cat at according to this one,” Sarah said, jerking a thumb towards Tony with a grin. “And there's plenty more left for you, love.” 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep and more gruff than usual. He headed for the stove top and grabbed a plate, loading it up with food and taking a seat beside Tony. He poured himself coffee from the pot on the table and nearly finished it before starting his food, saying his own small grace when Sarah looked like she might throw her eggs at him if he ate without. 

After he’d successfully cleared that plate and loaded up on seconds, he spoke again. 

“Did it take you long to get to sleep last night?” Steve asked Tony.

Tony couldn't bring himself to look at Steve, too scared of whatever it was that happened earlier, would happen again. He topped up his tea while he answered. 

“Not longer than usual. What about you?” 

“I barely remember anything after saying goodnight so I’d wager not long at all,” he said with a grin. His mother rolled her eyes but chuckled. 

“I’m surprised you managed to make it to your room. You don’t function well on little sleep,” she teased. He just shoveled another heaping of pancakes into his mouth instead of commenting, still smiling. 

He was in a fantastic mood. He’d slept long and deep, was woken up by Tony to come down to quite the spread and now he was comfortable and slowly filling his empty stomach. 

“So what did I miss?” He asked, looking at each of them in turn, not bothered by who decided to answer him. 

“ _Aintín_ wanted to know what I learned in school,” Benni answered proudly. 

“I’ll take Benni out for a treat, I figured. Any of you want to come with?”

Tony looked at Steve from where he was sitting and then nodded. 

“Would be nice,” he agreed. 

“Sounds grand,” Steve added, finishing his second plate. He leaned back, satisfied and unconsciously reached out to rest an arm on the back of Tony’s chair. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Can we go to the movies? I’ve never been before.” Benni looked around and everyone agreed. Steve wiped his mouth on a napkin and got up.

“Let me find out if there’s somethin’ that’ll interest you,” he said and before Tony could tell him to finish breakfast first, Steve was gone. 

“Benni,” Tony said and told him in Italian that it was rude to interrupt his breakfast because of this. He didn’t even notice how much he gestured while he spoke until Sarah chuckled softly. 

“No harm done, _a ghrá_. Now don’t look so surprised. I know scolding when I see it.” She winked at Tony. 

“You’re too soft, _aintín_ ,” Tony said and got up, putting his dishes in the sink and filling it with water. She smiled at him and fixed Tony’s hair and kissed him on his temple. Steve came back and nodded.

“How does 2pm sound?” Benni cheered and got up to run around. Tony was just about to scold his brother but Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ve worried enough about him. How about you leave that to me?” There was something in her voice that told Tony that he shouldn’t bother trying to talk back to her. It reminded him of Steve. 

“Both of you want me not to have anything to do then, eh?” Tony asked and sat back down next to Steve. “What _do_ I do then?” His Italian accent was thicker when he was upset, like he was then. There was the frustration about Benni who should know better, the frustration that he didn’t have anything productive to do, and the frustration about the confusing things his body was up to lately. 

“You relax,” Steve said with a shrug and finished his plate. “And get ready for us to head out.” 

“I can do only one of those things,” Tony answered and got back up again. “Fair enough. Let me catch that stubborn beast first.” The idea of going out scared Tony. Steve had said that Howard was in a prison ‘of sorts’. But would he be released soon? Would he look for Tony and his brother? Would he find them? Why did they have to go out where they risked being seen and recognized?

Only to the movies and then back. He could do that. No one would recognize him, tell Howard with whom he was at the cinema, where he could find them. Even though he repeated those words in his head and even mumbled them to himself as he was getting dressed he couldn’t help but tremble in fear. Remembering his father was enough to remind him of the pain the man had caused him. How he had pressed Tony on the cold,hard floor— 

“You good to go?” Sarah asked knocking on Tony’s door and then entering. “Lad, you can call me if you need help with the sweater,” she said and helped Tony. He was closing down again, like the other day at the store when it was too much for him to handle and process. He could hear words from far, far away but they didn’t reach him until he felt a hand on his and heard Benni call him “ _orsetto_ ” in the softest way ever. When had he managed to pick that up from Maria? How much did he remember, Tony wondered. 

While Tony looked at Benni, the boy explained to Sarah that Tony goes far away sometimes and it helps to call him _orsetto_ or touch his hand gently. While Tony watched his little-but-not-so-little brother he realized how much he looked like their mother. How had he never seen that before?

“ _Do you still want to go?_ ” Benni asked, still holding Tony’s hand and Tony nodded. 

They decided they would walk to the cinema seeing as Benni was full of energy and needed an outlet. Apparently fresh air helped with healing too, or so Sarah insisted. She ended up walking with Benni, telling him stories about fairies who would hide in the snow and play with kids who dared to believe in them. Steve walked next to Tony, his hat hiding half his face probably for his own protection. He hoped that Steve didn’t see him earlier, hear what his brother told his mom. Even though he didn’t know what it was and what exactly happened when he went far away—as Maria would call it—he thought it was embarrassing. Just one more thing that made him weak and vulnerable. At the same time he wanted to tell Steve about, talk to him like they had the night before. In private. Alone. 

Some time later they got to the cinema and walked right in without having to wait in line. The same thing happened when they were getting snacks and the man who assigned the seats gave them the best ones in the showroom. 

Benni sat in the middle between Sarah and Tony and on Tony’s right was Steve. Usually Tony didn’t like to be cornered like that but with Steve on one side and Benni on the other it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Steve offered him some of his popcorn and Tony thanked him silently while taking some of it. 

The movie started and he leaned back, getting more comfortable and so did Steve. Although it seemed impossible for him because he was simply too tall and too broad. Whenever he adjusted himself he ended up touching Tony in one way or the other. At first their elbows, then their arms, even their hands brushed together at one point. Then Steve bumped his foot into Tony’s, hitting their knees once. 

With a smile on his lips he leaned in and told Steve as quietly as possible, “Just get comfortable. I don’t mind.” He pulled his arm away from the middle, still having more than enough space to himself. 

Steve stretched his long legs and he ended up spreading them in a way that his thigh touched Tony’s knee. He looked at Tony and Tony nodded in response. He didn’t mind. Steve was warm, his muscles firm. 

It was such a small touch but it made all the difference to Tony. It made focusing on the movie much more difficult. Every now and then when he reached into the box of popcorn, his and Steve’s hand would brush against each other. It was an accidental touch. Even smaller than his knee against his thigh. So small but so warm. A warmth that spread through Tony’s body once again. A warmth that Steve caused. Fuzzy, fluttering, comfortable, safe. 

This was the closest Steve had to been to Tony while both were conscious. He had carried Tony to bed and to the ambulance before that and Tony, he assumed, had been close to him when he woke him earlier. 

Steve was painfully aware of the proximity and the warmth. Tony’s invitation to make himself comfortable hadn’t really helped either because now he was spread out and didn’t want to move again and disturb him, so he stayed as he was—close to him and acutely aware of that fact. 

He hadn’t realized just how much worry and the need to get him out of his previous situation had been dominating his mind. Most of his thoughts towards Tony were ‘protect, rescue’ and now with that no longer as much of a necessity he was finding himself more conscious of his attraction and his emotions, but he did what he’d done the last time this had happened—he squashed it. The first time it worked so well it went away entirely. He could only hope. 

The other reason Steve couldn’t totally get comfortable was because of the gun tucked into the back of his trousers, hidden by his coat, but it wasn’t going anywhere so he just dealt with it. 

Despite himself, he kept glancing at Tony. Sometimes turning his head slightly, sometimes just his eyes sliding over. He allowed himself a small portion of freedom—look but not touch. Tony needed a friend right now, not more, and he might not ever need Steve as that ‘more’ anyway. 

Steve knew he found Tony physically appealing but what had initially attracted him in a noticeable way was that unwavering strength. That ability to keep going despite seeing no way out, making one for himself and even with the situation removed, Tony still had that air about him. 

When the movie ended, they were the first to head out through a way shown to them by one of the ushers. 

As they walked, heading back home, Steve turned to Tony, “How’d you like it?” 

Back outside Steve helped him into his coat because Tony couldn’t raise his left arm enough. It was frustrating but also a nice gesture. 

“It was nice to see a movie again,” he admitted and looked down. He was about ready to go back and sleep some more. Why he was so tired that he didn’t know, he just was. And out in the open he felt even more vulnerable. He wanted to add something about the movie as a couple passed them and Tony smelled the man’s cologne and he froze. It was Howard’s. He’d know that smell anywhere. Only Howard’s was usually mixed with the stench of booze. Tony stared at the man and moved closer to the houses behind him. It was cold. There was the smell and suddenly Tony’s whole body started to ache again. 

Steve watched Tony’s unusual behavior, confused, and even Benni didn’t seem to know what was causing it. Without thinking, he moved to put an arm around Tony and help him walk a little more quickly back home. 

Inside again, Steve led him into the living room, sitting him down on the couch with his arm still around him. “Tony?” 

Feeling the warmth of the house, Tony managed to calm himself and look directly at Steve. “Where’s Howard? Where… do you keep him?” 

Steve maintained his composure despite really not expecting that question. “In a secure location.” 

“Please, tell me,” Tony said. “Better yet. Let me see him.” 

Steve stared into his eyes, trying to understand why he wanted to see him. He didn’t seem ready in Steve’s opinion but perhaps he was. He was just so worried about doing more damage and also what would Tony think when he saw him, knowing he’d been tortured and more than likely figuring out that James and Steve had been the torturers? 

“Are you sure?” He asked the words slowly. 

Tony pressed his lips together. No, he wasn’t sure. He just needed to see with his own eyes that Howard wouldn’t get to him ever again. 

“He’s haunting me, Steve,” Tony said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Maybe Steve was right in asking him that. Maybe he wasn’t ready. “Tell me there’s no way for him to escape?”

The words hurt his heart and he frowned again, his eyebrows pulling together. Oh, he’d hurt Howard again just for making Tony say that. “Even if there were a way to escape, which there isn’t, he more than likely wouldn’t be able to get to it,” he told him. Leaving off the implied ‘in his condition.’ He was nervous to see how Tony would react to what Steve was saying. 

Tony looked at Steve. “Wouldn’t be able to?” He repeated, searching for something in Steve’s eyes that would confirm it. “Are you saying…” He quickly scanned the room, not seeing Sarah or Benni. “Are you telling me that he couldn’t if he wanted to?” He asked carefully. 

Steve stayed silent but he nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Tony’s, his own heart racing.

The realization of those words hit Tony and he covered his mouth as he thought about their true meaning. “You?” He asked, breathless. “Him?”

For the first time since he could remember, Steve felt shame and he dropped his eyes, no longer able to keep the contact. Yes, Howard was a monster and yes, he deserved what he got but that didn’t mean Tony wanted that for him. He and James had taken matters into their own hands and never even stopped to consider what Tony might’ve wanted. This was twice that Steve had done that to him. 

He could only imagine what Tony thought of him and he waited for the younger man to move away in disgust, in horror, in fear, as Steve nodded and said, “And James.” 

Tony lowered his hand, closed his eyes and exhaled, relieved. As he closed his eyes a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had to smile, almost laughed. “All this time,” he said with a small laugh and looked back to Steve, into those beautiful blue eyes. “Would you think less of me if I thanked you?” Tony asked, scooting closer to him, his good hand resting on Steve’s shoulder. He had to touch him. Make sure he was real, that all of this was truly happening and wasn’t just a cruel nightmare from which he would wake up too soon. 

The relief washed over Steve like a wave hitting a shore and he met Tony’s eyes again. “It would take a lot to get me to think less of you, Tony,” he said honestly. He admired him, in all honesty. He welcomed the hand on his shoulder, noting that it was the first time Tony had initiated a touch. “You sure you’re okay with it?” He wanted to say something about it not being something he enjoyed but when it came to Howard, he did. 

“The only reason I never fought back was because that son of—” He took a deep breath. “Because _he_ threatened to hurt Benni instead. He was coming at me with a knife when my mom got in between and he pushed her down the stairs. He has tried and _failed_ to kill me _for years_. Saying that I hate that man is an understatement,” he said, his voice shaking from the anger. “He said that if I ever reported him, fought him, anything of that sort, he’d turn to Benni instead.” Tony had to say those words again. They were the reason why he had fought so hard to keep going. “Whatever you’re doing to him, know that he deserves worse.”

Steve understood now why James said Tony would want to kill him. He nodded as Tony spoke, his worries melting away with every word until he felt at peace again. 

_He deserves worse_ , Tony said. That was good to know. 

“Do you still want to see him?” 

Tony pulled his hand away, a bitter smile on his face as he shook his head. 

“Ask me again in about nineteen years,” he scoffed, leaning back and rubbing his face, sighing again. Whatever it was he would be facing, whatever he needed to do to overcome what had been done to him, he could do it. Because now he knew for sure that there was no way he’d ever end up in a situation like that ever again. “Countless times I’ve prayed for help. And ever so often I dared to hope that it was finally over, that he’s had enough, that he might have died, that _I_ might finally die. And it got worse. And then you came.” Tony moved to look at Steve again. “You’re the answer to my prayers.” 

Steve didn’t think twice, his body, his instincts, working faster than his mind and rationality. He reached out to Tony and pulled him into a hug and when his brain finally caught up to his arms he let go and he moved back, the apology in his eyes despite never coming out of his mouth. 

His mouth felt dry and he had to clear his throat before he spoke. “You’ll never have to see him again. In fact,” he began, but hesitated, thinking how best to say this. Logically he knew that Tony must know he’s killed people but saying it out loud once again struck up that fear of rejection in Steve. A fear he didn’t worry much about. No one rejected him, not in his business, not when it came to pleasure, no one. But Tony could. “Only reason he‘s still… around is because James insisted you’d want to be the one to…” he left the rest of the sentence to the imagination, knowing Tony would know what he meant. 

Before Tony could hug him back, Steve was already pulling away so he simply let him. For the first time he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away, nothing. On top of opening up about his darkest feelings? Tony wouldn't have believed it if it wasn’t happening right now. 

“Me?” He asked and thought about it. It did seem fitting. It made sense. Tony nodded. “Before I do that there’s one thing I want to ask him.” It was absurd but he felt shy about asking it. “Teach me how to use a gun?”

Steve was surprised. He hadn’t thought Tony would want to do it after admitting to never wanting to see him again. His question was even more shocking. He hadn’t expected him to be the weapon-using type. He was about to ask Tony when he would want to start when he remembered it wouldn’t be for a little while longer. “Once your arm’s healed, we’ll start. Sound like a plan?” 

Tony looked at Steve, up and down, examined his face and smiled as he nodded. Wherever did that man come from? “Yes,” he said and reached his hand out to Steve. “Shake on it?”

Steve grinned, taking Tony’s hand and shaking it firmly. He laughed, remembering something else, and said, “James wants to teach you to use a knife.”

Tony furrowed his brows and gave him a questioning look. “I know how to use a knife. Oh, you mean as a weapon?“ The idea of learning how to fight close up with a knife, learning to use a gun, it was exciting. It was a part of himself he didn't know was there. And yet he liked it, could see where it came from and wanted it. “Can’t hurt to learn, I guess.”

Steve chuckled. “I knew how to use a knife as a weapon before and then James taught me and, well, let me be the first to tell you there’s a lot more to learn than you think.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for funzies and because this is how sleepy, pale Steve looks: 
> 
> https://images.app.goo.gl/AzzFzV57BvtDJZfR6


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets a job and a raise in the same day. Steve gets a letter. An accountant has a very bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pakhan (Russian) - boss  
> Addio (Italian) - goodbye/farewell  
> A ghrá (Irish) - love (pet name)  
> neimovernyy (Russian) - incredible

Steve went back to work on Monday but only spent half the day in the actual office building and the first half in his room at home at his desk, going over new recruit files to get back to Jones by the end of the day. 

That evening he and James met earlier in the week than usual at one of their two usual spots, which were either the basement bar in Steve’s home or the bar in James’. The only other two people there Dugan and Dmitri as was always the case, Dmitri making the drinks. 

“You said you had news?” James asked drinking the vintage scotch Steve had brought with him to James’ home. 

Steve grinned into his drink and began explaining to James what Tony had told him. He started with the bad—Howard haunting him—and ended with the good. James’ eyebrows had been at his hairline since Steve had mentioned him not only being okay with torture but thanking him for it. 

“ _Neimovernyy,_ ” he said, shaking his head and chuckling. James was impressed with him. He understood more and more why Steve had his obsession with him. “So he asked you to teach him to use a gun, huh?” Steve nodded, sipping his drink. 

“He sure did. And you know what? I felt proud?” 

“I am too. I was proud when you finally learned to use my nine-inch.” Steve raised his eyebrows suggestively and he and James laughed before James added, “did you tell him my offer?” 

“Oh he’s eager to learn. Didja know he hadn’t a clue who you were at dinner the other night? Ma told him later.” James’ eyes bugged and he almost choked on his own spit. 

“What? You never thought to mention that your best friend is the _Pakhan_?” 

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like it comes up in conversation often. Think he thought you worked for _me_.” James snorted as if the idea was ridiculous. Steve gave him a look. 

“What? You and I both know if anything _you_ would work for _me_.” Steve thought about it for a long second and then nodded. It was true. He’d follow James anywhere just like he did when they were kids and James protected him from bullies. Being three years older than him and much bigger, he was a welcome ally and had taken pity on the small kindergartener getting pushed into a bush. 

They enjoyed a companionable silence for about five minutes before James spoke again. 

“Dinner at yours again?” He looked over at Steve who smiled at him. 

“Of course. You know ma would have a fit if she went a week without seeing your ugly mug.” 

“True. I suppose it is a welcome alternative to yours.” 

The next morning at breakfast as he was getting ready to go to the office, Steve hesitated, turning to Tony. He knew he was tired of the inactivity and despite wanting him to experience a little R&R, Steve knew what it was like to suddenly find himself doing nothing when previously such a thing didn’t exist for him. Even now it was difficult for him to just sit back and relax. 

“Tony,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “you sure you’re tired of doing nothing?” He was only too eager to be given work to do and so Steve told him to get dressed in the suit Sarah got him and meet him in the basement. Sarah and Tony headed upstairs to get him dressed. 

Benni pouted, he wanted to go with Steve and Tony but he had school. Steve laughed and told him that if he ever wanted to come to work with Tony and Steve he would _have_ to go to school first. 

“But sometimes the other kids are mean.”

Steve, about to head out of the kitchen, stopped dead and whirled around to face Benni. “Come again, lad?” 

“Sometimes they’re mean. Sometimes Miss Monaghan picks my hand but I don’t know the answer and they laugh.” 

Steve moved around the table and sat in the chair beside Benni, resting a hand on his head and ruffling his hair playfully. “Does Miss Monaghan ever call on those kids?” Benni shook his head no. “Do those kids ever raise their hands?” Again, he shook his head no. “Well, then, lad, don’t bother with ‘em. They’re just jealous because _you_ are smart and brave, aren’t you?” Benni smiled, nodding. “That’s a good lad.” He pressed a kiss to his hair and told him to have a good day and that he’d see him later, and disappeared down to the basement, waiting for Tony. 

Steve turned when he heard approaching footsteps and looked Tony up and down in his new attire. He looked _fantastic_ , as if he’d been born to wear that suit. Sarah had even styled his hair. Steve had grown to love Tony’s usual looks, but now seeing him in that brown tweed three-piece with nicely accompanying dark blue tie and light blue shirt, Steve was very impressed. 

“How does it feel?” 

“How do you make these things look comfortable?” 

Steve chuckled. “Guess I’m just used to them,” he answered, reaching up to straighten Tony’s tie as he got closer to him. His hands moved out from the tie to each of his shoulders and he gave him a light squeeze, unsure how much was still sore. He couldn’t help but look him up and down again. “You look grand.” 

“He does, doesn’t he? Someone has quite the eye for fashion it seems,” Sarah teased, leaning in to kiss both of their cheeks before dashing off upstairs to help Benni finish getting ready for school. 

Steve turned and unlocked the basement door, walking through with Tony. 

“What will I be doing?” Tony asked. 

“Still nothing _too_ strenuous,” he told him and Tony looked disappointed. “But I could use an errands man. You won’t have to go out in the cold, mainly just running things between myself and the boys, maybe a little organizing and researching. You’ll be in my office with me.” 

They reached the gym of the other building and Steve made sure to lock the door behind him. It had two latches and a deadbolt. Falsworth was in the gym when they arrived, going toe-to-toe with a sandbag and he nodded to them as they passed. 

Upstairs in his office, Steve opened the door. It felt like forever since he and Tony had been in there together, especially alone. He set Tony up at one of the couches and pulled the table closer for him which Tony looked like he wanted to protest and let Steve know he could do it himself but he stayed quiet and just frowned instead, making Steve smile. 

Steve pulled out two files from his desk and handed them over to Tony. 

“How are you with research and the process of elimination? I have some new recruits and I’m supposed to look through them and weed out the bad and keep the good. Can you do it for me? I have a few calls to make this morning first and you’d be doing me a favor.” Tony seemed hesitant at first but he accepted. Steve had already done this and he’d already given Jones his answers but he was curious to see if he and Tony would share the same opinions. 

Steve went over to his chair, sat down at his desk and sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before looking for the numbers he needed to call. 

Tony sat down and looked at the files but every now and then he looked at Steve, listened to his voice—sometimes stern, sometimes a perfect American accent, other times very thick Irish—and at one point he got up and walked around the desk as much as the line allowed him to. Tony paid special attention to how naturally Steve unbuttoned his jacket when he sat down, straighten the back of his jacket, how he buttoned it up easily with one hand when he got up. He was very good at it. So good you’d miss it if you didn‘t know he was doing it. 

“Tony?” Steve asked about an hour later. “Be a dear and go find Falsworth, wouldja? I’m in dire need of a cup o’joe.” Tony got up to leave and a moment later came back with the man and his coffee pot. 

He poured them both a cup and Steve took it, sniffing it and making a face but he drank it. When Tony drank his, he immediately spat it back out, looking shocked and Steve chuckled and then he laughed and then he had to put his cup down so he could lean back, his eyes barely open and hands across his chest, as he laughed so hard he cried. 

“Your manky coffee almost made him sick,” Steve cried, wiping his eyes. “We can’t go on living like this, my friend,” he told Falsworth.

“No, no you can’t and I won’t let you.” Tony got up and took the can with him to dump the contents. Seeing Steve laugh as wholeheartedly as he did was simply beautiful. Tony would love to give him all the reasons to make him laugh like that all the time. For now his priority was proper joe. Falsworth was grumbling under his breath but Tony didn’t pay any attention to it while he inspected the coffee machine. “First of all, when did you last clean this? It looks disgusting. And that’s not nearly enough coffee in there.” With only one good hand he couldn’t do much so he ordered Falsworth around, telling him what to do. While he did so his Italian accent came through a lot more as it usually did when he was getting worked up. 

Steve watched Tony take charge of the situation and of Falsworth with all the smugness of a proud coach watching his players win a big, important game. There was a smile on his face, a look, that he knew he’d only really felt there when he was looking at Tony but the boy just made you want to smile at him and let him do his thing. Falsworth did not enjoy being bossed around by someone almost half his age but one irritated look from Steve and he dealt with it.

A good twenty minutes later the can was filled with fresh coffee. “It’s not ideal but better than the batch before. You should get the coffee machine from the deli. There are one or two small sacks of coffee beans in the pantry.” He had sat down across the table from Steve and leaned back in his chair. He was proud of himself that he remembered to unbutton his jacket before sitting down. Suits weren't that bad after all. 

Steve sipped the new coffee put in front of him and hummed, delighted. “This _is_ much better. Still not your coffee but…” he trailed off, turning slowly to look at Tony and Falsworth. “If it’s alright, why don’t the two of you go and pick it up? And bring back anything else you deem worthy,” he instructed them, looking at Tony as he spoke. 

Tony hesitated, turning the cup between his hands. He didn’t realize he said anything about the deli until the words left his mouth. Only the deli and the pantry. He could do that. Tony nodded and got up to get the files. Three he placed on Steve’s left side, one in the middle and two on his right. “Your left is no. Middle I’d wanna talk to. Right is yes.” He explained and looked behind himself to Falsworth. “Let’s do it now?“ The man looked at Steve and then nodded. 

“Falsworth?” Steve called before they left out, curling his index finger back and Falsworth came as called. He got right to the desk and Steve spoke, in Gaelic, “ _If a single hair on his head is out of place—_ ”

“ _I know, Cap, protect the wee la—_ ” When he caught sight of Steve’s expression, he shut up and changed his tone. “ _Yes, Cap. He’s safe with me._ ” Steve gave a curt nod, his expression the same and Falsworth backed out. 

As if they had expected Tony to head out, a car was ready and inside it was nice and warm. The drive to the deli didn’t take long though the snow did slow them down. Tony was dreading going back there. What was he thinking? 

Steve had given him the keys he had taken the last time when he went there to pick up Benni and Tony’s things. There was no need to go back up there. Only the pantry, maybe storage downstairs and the store. Not more. Not less. And he wasn’t alone either. It was just a building. One that stood half empty without them there. Dark and cold, the blinds down, doors locked. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. 

Tony stood in front of the door and unlocked it, but he found himself unable to push the door open and enter. His hands were trembling and he was about to turn around and run when Falsworth reach up and opened the door for him.

Without saying a word the other men entered, turned on the lights and looked around while waiting for Tony to come in after them. Tony was surprised to see the store clean and tidy. Then again it wasn’t much of a surprise since Steve had been here last. This was probably his doing. Or at least someone he paid to do it.

He pointed out the things he would need—first of all, the coffee machine that took the both of them to carry to the car. While they were doing that, Tony went through the things in the pantry, grabbing canned goods and herbs of all sorts, then the dried herbs that were hanging above the counter. From the storage downstairs he took a whole wheel of parmesan that was perfectly well-stored and would be even more intense in its flavor now. Falsworth came looking for him and looked at all the alcohol stored down there. Tony didn’t care for it and if the other man hadn’t seen, he wouldn’t have mentioned it either. 

“What’s the yellow stuff that looks like candy?” Falsworth asked. 

“ _Limoncello_ , a digestive. It’s served cold in summer. This is the batch Benni and I made last summer.”

“And the brown thick stuff in those other unlabeled bottles?”

“ _Amaro_ , made by an old friend of my mother’s. It’s sort of an aperitif, though some drink it as digestive. Others use it for medicinal purposes,” Tony answered and watched them open a bottle of each and try some of it. They seemed to like it and asked Tony if they could take the bottles with them. Tony didn’t mind and packed the rest of the cheese in clean cloths that were there to transport it. There was more down there than he remembered. Not that he tried to remember. 

They carried boxes of different kinds of alcohol to the car while Tony packed the last of the food, the pasta maker, coffee mill and some other things he had missed in Sarah’s kitchen. 

“ _Addio, Mama_ ,” Tony whispered, running his hand over the counter. He wouldn’t go back there, not if he could help it. He was about to get back into the car where the others were waiting for him when someone yelled his name.

“Antonio Edward Stark!” Tony flinched and was about to hide when he saw the red-haired girl who came running. “Stop right there!” She checked left and right before running across the street and basically tackling Tony in a hug. “Ma said she saw someone in the store. I knew it had to be you! Where have you been? I was so worried about you. Is your arm broken?” She cupped his face with her hands and kissed his forehead. “Thank god you’re okay.” 

“Oi, laddie. You okay?” Falsworth asked and Tony nodded.

“One minute,” he said and gently peeled Pepper off of him, trying not to show that she had squeezed and touched some spots that were still sore and aching. “We’re okay, Benni and I. A lot has happened. I... can’t talk right now though.”

“Fine. But promise me you will talk to me?” She held his good hand and he nodded. Suddenly he realized he was still in his suit and Pepper seemed to notice that at the same time. 

“You look grand! Where’d ya get that from?” She turned him and nodded in approval. “Wear this when you pick me up for a dance?”

“Dance? I don’t think so.” She gave him a stern look and he raised his hand in defense. “I have a broken arm. So maybe something calmer?” 

“Do you still know my number?” Tony nodded to that question. “Call me and tell me where we meet. I want to see you again.” She hugged him again and opened the car door for him.

“Nice bird ya got yerself, lad.” Falsworth grinned as they drove back to the office.

“She’s not my bird. She’s a friend,” he said, making the other two laugh.

Steve was looking over the files Tony had gone through. The three rejections, two approvals and the one he would ‘want to talk to.’ He was intrigued because he agreed with all of the rejections. The ‘want to talk to’ Steve had dismissed entirely, but for reasons that it was understandable why Tony would keep him. Steve knew the family, knew there was a bitterness there since one of their other boys died working for him and Steve didn’t expect Tony to know that. He passed that file onto the rejection pile and looked at the remaining ones. 

Tony had also given Douggie McLaughlin a sure yes. Steve had only given Seàn Murphy a pass and everyone else to the trash. The first three that Tony got rid of Steve completely agreed, they were too young and didn’t look like they could hurt a butterfly if it had a knife. The middle one couldn’t be trusted. Douggie, well… Steve had grown up with him in the neighborhood. He was a year younger but he’d always been a bully. A real asshat. He’d beat someone black and blue just for looking at him funny. He was an Irish Howard so _hard pass_. 

He tossed their files in the trashcan that was underneath his desk and put Seàn’s back into his desk drawer. Dugan was out talking to him right at that moment. 

There was a knock at the door and Steve looked up to see his mother bringing him a bag of food. She shook it eagerly and he grinned. 

“Figured since the boyo’s not bringing you sandwiches anymore I might take his place every now and then.” She looked around. “Where is he?” 

“He had a lick of Falsworth’s coffee and figured drinking any more of it was a worse fate than braving that deli.” She chuckled. “He and Falsworth went to get some things.” She hummed. 

“I didn’t expect him to be able to go back so soon.” 

“Neither did I.” 

“He’s a strong one alright.” Steve agreed. She put the bag of food on his desk and he opened it up to see the cottage hand pies from the place down the way. They were the best in the neighborhood but Steve didn’t often get out to pick some up. Sarah had a second bag for Tony. “How’s he doing?” 

“Fine. Not much to get wrong though I doubt he would anyway.” 

“Would you like him doing more?” 

“If he wants. We’ll see. Nothing out of office, though. I don’t want that for him. His father will be enough. Not more than that,” he told her. He didn’t want Tony losing any more of himself than Howard had already caused him to. He would never be sending Tony on any violent errands. 

Right at that moment, the door opened and Tony and Falsworth came in. Tony had a bag in his good hand and Falsworth and a few men Tony didn’t know the names of were carrying the coffee machine and the other heavier bags. 

“I didn’t realize you were bringing the whole shop back,” Sarah said, a smile on her face. Steve said nothing. He didn’t joke and tease with anyone lower down than Falsworth. He didn’t consider it particularly good for their confidence in him. 

When the door was shut and the things deposited—most going to the living room where there was a small kitchenette—Steve stood and went over to inspect the machine but really he just wanted to stand close to Tony so he could whisper to him. 

“You alright?”

Tony put down the things he would take back to Sarah’s kitchen and nearly jumped when Steve whispered to him. The tickling of Steve’s breath on his skin made the hairs on his neck stand up. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, trying to regain some composure if he even had such a thing to begin with. “You said bring back anything I deemed worthy. Thought we might as well use the food that’s still useable.” He pointed to the wheel of cheese the men were unpacking. “It’s more than enough.” 

“Good job,” he told him, glad to hear Tony was alright after going back there. He moved away, back towards his desk. He understood Tony’s thinking behind it but still found it cute that he had brought back food for them to use. 

“I brought you some lunch, _a ghrá_ ,” Sarah told him, holding out the bag. Steve motioned for Falsworth to leave and he did, closing the door. “Come sit and rest.” Steve thought to tell her that resting was the thing Tony was starting to hate by the look on his face but it would be a cold day in hell before he talked back to his mother. 

Tony bit back a sigh and nodded. Here was lunch and Sarah had thought of him. He should be grateful. And he _was_. But he would have rather gotten a new task from Steve than sit down and rest. 

“What is this I’m eating?” He asked after taking a bite. Sarah explained it to him and he nodded. He wanted to tell Steve about Pepper. Why? That he didn’t know. He just wanted to talk to him. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said, having afternoon plans of her own. She grabbed her coat and blew them both kisses, heading out. 

Dugan popped his head in at the same time that she went out. 

“Welcome back,” Steve said, happy to see him in one piece. Dugan nodded his thanks. 

“Done,” he told him. Seàn would be going through initiation soon. Dugan noticed Tony for the first time now and chuckled. “Looking sharp, lad,” he said

Tony nodded and gave him a small smile. How did people react to compliments?

Dugan came over to the desk and handed Steve an envelope, which Steve, after checking the sender, put into a desk drawer and locked it. “ _Take care of it._ ” 

Dugan nodded and left out again. Steve stood, fixing his waistcoat and moved to a shelf, pulling down two large folders. He set it on Tony’s table and then sat down beside him. He opened it up to a tab marked last month and then opened the other to reveal a bunch of papers. Some typed, some handwritten. “When you’re done eating, can you sort these into the appropriate month in chronological order?” They were accounts. All in Gaelic and shorthand to preserve the information but the dates and the amounts and such were perfectly understandable. 

He pulled out another list from the front of the first folder that had every local business and other person/entity that paid Steve and the mob along with their due amounts. 

Tony took the folder and saw numbers. Didn’t take a genius to see that it was about money. The amounts of money he saw there were incredible. Of course he realized that Steve was wealthy, he didn’t know just _how_ wealthy he was. He spread out the sheets and sorted through them until something caught his attention. He spread the sheets back out to check something. Even though he couldn’t read Gaelic, he recognized the pattern of the name and it always seemed to be the same. Could it be? 

He spread the rest of the sheets out more, putting some on the floor and crouching over them. The jacket was in his way so he simply got rid of it, putting it on a chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle too much. He crouched back down to look at the documents. From somewhere came a notepad and a pencil which Tony accepted gladly and started scribbling down things and moving from sheet to sheet. 

Steve stood over him, arms crossed, watching the papers he went between, trying to understand. He’d never seen Tony so focused, seeming to process whatever it was he was doing quite quickly. Tony had never mentioned any special skills, mathematical or otherwise, which meant—judging by what he was seeing on the notepad—that either he was just being his extremely modest self or Howard had discouraged him so much he didn’t even realize he was gifted. It was likely a combination of the two. 

He leaned forward, his hands on the back of the couch, looking over Tony’s shoulder. “What is it?” 

Tony stopped and looked over his shoulder at Steve, considering what to say. “I’m not sure it’s anything.” Steve gave him a very stern look meaning he wanted to know. “There’s money missing. It’s little by little, here and there. It’s always the same amount, though it’s several accounts, I think. Or whatever it is the left column says.” 

He picked up one of the papers on which Tony had circled the name at the top and read it over. “Fucking hell,” he cursed, furious. “Separate the accounts with the discrepancies from the others and put them on my desk. I’ll be right back.” He turned to leave and then added, “And calculate as well the total amount that’s unaccounted for.” 

Tony was sure he was right because it made sense, the numbers were right there and numbers didn’t lie. Not if the accountant was any good. That thought sparked an idea in him. 

Tony mumbled and went back to looking through the sheets again. His ideas actually made sense. Some time later, Tony couldn’t say how much time had passed, the door swung open again and he saw Steve dragging someone in. Someone who looked unhappy when they probably should have been scared. He didn’t know whether or not he could speak openly with Steve so he decided to stay quiet and get up, straightening his shirt and waistcoat. 

Steve tossed the guy in roughly and he almost didn’t manage to stay upright at the force of the shove. He caught himself on the couch and straightened up. Jones came in a moment later, hands on his hips which threw his suit jacket back and made the gun on his hip very visible. 

Jones locked the door and leaned against it. Steve stalked over to his desk and stood behind it, stabbing a finger into the middle of the papers Tony had put there. 

“ _O’Shea, here. Now_.” The man scrambled over to the desk and stood in front of it. 

“ _Aye, sir_?” 

“Look at this and tell me what you see and be careful because I already know which answer is right.” He had the paper with the missing amount in his pocket, having swiped it off the desk before O’Shea made it over. 

He picked up the papers with shaky hands, bringing it to his face and removing a pair of glasses from his pocket. He looked over the page and each time he switched to a new one his breathing picked up. 

“You seem nervous,” Steve said, his voice low and menacing. O’Shea swallowed hard and put the papers back down. 

“N-no, sir, but I don’t see the problem,” he lied. 

“Wrong answer.” Steve snapped his fingers and Jones pushed O’Shea down into a chair, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Jones’ other hand was on the handle of his gun. “Tony, tell the man what you found.” 

Tony moved away to make space for them, unsure if Steve even wanted him there or not. Somehow the whole scene didn’t bother him but that was a thought for another time. 

“There’s money missing from these two stores.” Tony pointed to the accounts in question. “Around five hundred dollars from what I have found so far.” He kept his focus on Steve. He was the boss after all and he was answering to him at that moment. 

“Thank you,” Steve said and turned back to O’Shea with a raised eyebrow. “You stood there and watched us chase little issues and didn’t say a word about the deductions you had been making,” Steve said, sitting down in his chair, his arms crossed. He motioned for Tony to come stand beside him. “Granted he’s gifted,” Steve began, pointing up to Tony, “but he found you out in less than half an hour. I can promise you your punishment will last a lot longer if you don’t talk now.” 

O’Shea eyes widened in panic and he began confessing how he was siphoning money out of the accounts, trying to keep it all level so it would go virtually undetected. Steve was an incredibly intelligent man but he also trusted O’Shea so he never looked into the files himself. Dugan had brought to his attention what was happening with the others but this? 

When O’Shea finished explaining, Steve stared at him silently, and then looked up at Jones and nodded. Jones grabbed him and yanked him out of the chair and towards the door. O’Shea was begging Jones in Gaelic to be understanding. He had family back in Ireland who needed that money but if that were truly the case, he would’ve just asked Steve. Everyone knew for family matters, it was not unlike Steve to give out a little extra to help. This was not a family matter—O’Shea was just greedy and devious. 

When the door shut Steve leaned back and exhaled, running a hand over his hair. He looked up at Tony who still stood beside him and his frown melted away after a second. 

“Good catch. How’d you like his job?” He asked. He would set Tony up in his room though because while his three most trusted had no problem with Tony’s presence—he knew not everyone would be thrilled at the idea of a little Italian fella running their books. 

Gifted. That word echoed through Tony’s head. He was gifted? The numbers had been right there for everyone to see. When Steve exhaled he wanted to reach out, rest his hands on those broad shoulders and ask him if he was alright, if there was something he could do. He managed not to and simply stood there, waiting for Steve to look at him.

“An Italian running Irish books? Plus, an eighteen year old doing that kinda job when everyone sees an old man sitting there?” He shrugged. 

Steve shrugged, as if none of that worried him and honestly it didn’t. He would let Tony take O’Shea’s office space but he didn’t _want_ him anywhere else. He wanted him first and foremost right where he could see him for protective reasons. Then for selfish reasons, he enjoyed his company and looking over every now and then this morning had really been a stress relief all on its own. 

It wasn’t that he worried about anyone having anything to say, he just didn’t want to be bothered with it. 

“The reports will go to Dugan, Dugan will deliver them to you with none the wiser than you’re in control of them,” he explained, having used the time while O’Shea was panicking to think this up. “I was doing the books when I was your age. Younger even. Granted I was doing a lot of the jobs around here but still. And I wasn’t half as good as you seem to be.”

He learned about Steve and he wanted to learn more. How did he get where he was? And why? And when? “Thanks,” he said and smiled shyly. “Numbers make sense. Anyone who looks close enough could have seen that.” He looked at the sheets in front of Steve. It would be nice to have something to do, use his mind and not his muscles. “I’ll gladly help.” He nodded. 

“Well then, the job is yours,” he said with a smile. “Congratulations, you’ve been promoted and it’s only your first day. Must be a record.”

“How are you going to keep this up?” He asked with a smile and picked up his jacket, putting it back on. “Thanks, Steve. For trusting me this much.” 

“Of course,” he said, “you’ve given me no reason not to. What do you mean about keeping this up?” 

“Keeping things interesting enough for me to stick around,” Tony said and buttoned his jacket. He would be doing this job then. By Steve’s side? For him and with him. It seemed exciting. 

Steve felt like the air had been punched out of him and he dropped his eyes to the papers on his desk. He hadn’t known Tony was already entertaining the thought of moving on. He knew it was a possibility but figured a distant one, at least after his arm was healed or after Howard was taken care of but then again he couldn’t really blame him. Steve was so closely tied into the suffering he’d been subjected to the last couple months, of course he would eventually want to be rid of him, of it all. Didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt him more than he wanted to admit. 

Steve closed off, not wanting to let it show how much Tony’s words had affected him. If he wanted to leave one day, he wanted him to feel like he could do so without anything holding him back. “Well, it’s not like I’m limited in my options,” he finally said, standing and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back in a bit. You don’t have to keep that jacket on if you’re uncomfortable.”

It was supposed to be a light joke, nothing more. Never had he expected anything from Steve, especially not a job. Especially not one this important and essential to his business. There was nowhere he could go. Nowhere he wanted to go. If he could help Steve, he would do that. “I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Tony said and nodded. “I’ll be here sorting the papers.” He started collecting the papers and putting them into the correct order as Steve had asked him to. 

Meanwhile he thought back to earlier. Did he cost the other accountant his life? Though it was hardly his fault. No one had forced him to steal the money, to lie, to do any of it. And whatever had happened to him was the consequence of what he had done. Why wasn’t Tony bothered by what had happened in front of him? Clearly the others were angry. But it wasn’t directed at him. He was just a bystander. And it was Steve. He knew he could trust him. He looked at the empty chair where Steve had been sitting, moved to run his hand over the leather. This was where he spent a lot of his time. This was what he saw most of the time and now it would be what Tony would see too. And a whole lot more of Steve with that. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony cooks, he learns to shoot, and he shoots.  
> Steve is frustrated but mostly with himself and so is James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buon appetitto tutti (Italian) - Bon Appetit everyone  
> Vkusnye - (Russian) delicious  
> Zasranec - (Russian) asshole  
> Have it off (1937 English slang for have sex)  
> Kip - (English) a nap  
> Riposare in pace (Italian) - Rest In Peace 
> 
> Please be lenient with us, we’ve never used guns and google can only teach us so much.

Two weeks later Tony was due for his last check-up at the hospital, the thick bandages on his left arm were finally gone and the doctor moved his arm this way and that, applying pressure and tapping on different places before he was finally cleared. The bruises had all faded, the stitched up wounds were red and throbbed, so for that Tony was given an ointment and that was it. Tony could hardly believe it but he left without new bandages or band aids, no new wounds, nothing. No pain. 

Once outside the hospital Tony didn’t get in the car immediately but stayed outside in the cold and breathed in the fresh air with his eyes closed. Sarah waited patiently for him to get in and didn’t ask him was he was doing and he was grateful for it. 

“ _Aintín_ , how about we cook together tonight?” Tony asked Sarah and she smiled in response. 

That night Tony showed her how to make fresh spaghetti, then used what was left of the ham to make them carbonara, a dish none of the others had ever heard of before. It was a simple but delicious meal. 

Putting cheese on each portion he added the finishing touch, set a plate down in front of each one of them, and poured those who wanted one a glass of red wine. 

“ _Buon appetito tutto_ ,” he said and looked at each of them in turn. Benni was the most excited by the looks of it. Sarah reached her hands out and said grace for them, giving thanks for the meal and for Tony’s recovery. It made him smile and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“ _Vkusnye_ ,” James said in a quiet sort of awe after swallowing a mouthful. Steve was on his fifth mouthful, not even bothering to speak until his plate was clean and he was going for seconds. Steve stood and James held his plate out for him to refill it as well. “Such a well-behaved young man you’ve raised,” he told Sarah with a teasing look. 

“He has his days,” she added and Steve sighed. 

“I’m starting to remember why we spread these dinners out,” he said, handing James his plate and taking his seat again. He looked over at Tony and let him know how delicious the meal was. 

It filled Tony with a lot of pride that his mom’s recipe had brought so many people so much joy. He was happy and could only smile. He was in great company and they were all having a good time. 

He watched Steve’s finger dance around the wine glass while he talked to his friend. He looked relaxed or so Tony liked to think. 

Sarah, knowing the boys had things to discuss, told Benni she would read to him by the fireplace while they had dessert and he was up and out of his seat in no time, coming back only when he remembered his place had not been cleared. Once they were definitely out of earshot, James moved into the seat beside Steve, motioning for Tony to do the same. 

“Steve tells me you would like to finish it after all?” James asked, wanting to see Tony’s face and hear it for himself. 

Tony looked at James, playing idly with the spoon in his hand. He wasn’t necessarily nervous, just very aware of with whom he was. And of course what, or rather who, this was about. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “I told Steve this already. There’s one thing I want him to answer me.”

“Hm,” James said, nodding his head as well and sending Steve a look. He smiled and stood. “Be right back. You still keep it in the bedside table drawer?” 

“No, second desk drawer,” he clarified and then turned to Tony, “He wants something stronger than wine.” He was about to change the subject when he realized. “Is that going to be alright? Him drinking while we talk?” Wine was one thing but a bottle of scotch was another. 

“It’s your house and your rules. It doesn’t bother me if others drink. Not a fan of drinking for myself,” he stated simply. He also didn’t like what the drinking had done to Howard. Though that had to do with his poor character not the alcohol. 

“I know but I still want to make sure. It’s your house too, everyone should be comfortable in it.” 

James returned from Steve’s bedroom a moment later with the bottle and poured himself a glass. If Howard was going to be discussed, James was going to at least enjoy some aspect of it and that aspect was a nice single malt scotch. 

“I am good with a gun but knives are my specialty. I’m guessing a close range kill isn’t what you’re going for,” James said easily and Steve glared at him for not choosing his words more carefully. 

“I have no interest in wasting too much time with him.” Tony answered honestly. 

James had thought of at least seven ways to kill Howard instantly using a knife while Tony spoke but he understood his concerns. He pointed to Steve and said, “Then perhaps there is nothing for me to teach you. Right now.” If Tony wanted to learn to use a knife later, he would be willing to teach him. 

“As for the gun, let’s start tomorrow with the actual shooting. You sure your arm is up for it?” Steve asked, looking him over. 

Tony had thought a lot about this, had been impatiently waiting to get rid of the bandages. Yes, because he couldn’t use his left arm but also because of this. “I have been cleared to use it. There’s no pain. At least not in my arm.” Tony looked back at James. He wanted to ask him why he was there. Why he cared. Simply _why_. 

Steve’s point of view and intentions were clear to him but James had no reason whatsoever to care about Tony. Or Howard. Or any of this.

“Alright,” Steve said and turned to James but James’ attention was on Tony, his grey eyes focused.

“Yes?” James asked him, noting his body language and the way he kept looking over at him with mild confusion. He tried to make himself look as approachable as possible but knew that even relaxed, his expression was not always the most inviting. “You have questions.”

Tony leaned on the table, not breaking eye contact with James. “How do you fit in with all of this?” There was no other way he could put it. And frankly, Tony didn’t see why he would. 

James took a sip of his drink and looked at Steve. “The short version, Steve is my best friend. I care about him, he cares about you, so by default I now do too.” It was also a partial lie but James wasn’t sure how much he should tell Tony. He looked at Steve who nodded after a moment. “Long version?” 

When James looked at Steve, so did Tony. There was more to it. “Yes.” Tony nodded.

“Steve told me about you and your situation a long time ago, kept me updated. One of your previous neighbors, Sergei, is one of my men, he also reported back. I was meeting with Sergei _that day_ ,” he said, putting stress on the words rather than say anything too triggering. “I found you first. Got that _zasranec_ off you.” He stopped, one more glance at Steve who didn’t seem to have changed his mind. “He’s being held in a place owned by me.”

That day. Tony nodded and leaned back. There was a question burning on the tip of his tongue. _And do you always care about everyone Steve tells you about?_ He wouldn’t ask him that. It wouldn’t be very wise of him. Instead he nodded at James, gave him a polite smile and said “Thank you. Once again.”

James’ smile was equal parts sincere and unsettling. “My pleasure.” 

“So now that you two have met,” Steve said, “let’s get down to business.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and unfolded it on the table. Then he reached behind him and pulled the gun out of the back of his trouser waistband and set it on the table on top of the cloth. “It’s not loaded,” he said, opening it to show Tony, “but I want you to know all the ins and outs of it before it is.” 

“Taking it apart and putting it back together kind of thing?” Tony asked, watching Steve. How did he even sit with a gun on him? 

“In a way, yes, but less assembling and more getting familiar with.” He lifted it and handed it to Tony to hold. “Never point that barrel anywhere but the ground if you’re not about to use it on someone, you hear me?” 

“Keep your finger firmly in the center of the trigger, breathe out as you pull it back,” Steve said the next day, standing beside Tony. They were at James’ home in his basement which was not a game room but a shooting range with targets on the far wall, run-of-the-mill bullseyes as well as human-shaped targets. James was not with them but Steve had a key. 

Tony tried a few times but missed, so Steve moved to help him, coming to stand behind him, lining up their bodies. Tony was pressed against his chest and Steve reached out and placed his hands over Tony’s. 

“Keep your arms here. Keep these muscles taut and your wrist like this,” he explained, positioning it and then his right hand slid back to press underneath Tony’s bicep with the palm of his hand. “Firmer,” he commanded and Tony obeyed. 

He slid a leg in between Tony’s and spread them slightly, improving his stance. He leaned forward, pushing Tony forward with his chest. “A forward lean will help you manage recoil,” he explained. “Grip the handle as hard as you can but not so much that it hurts, it’ll reduce the movement of your non-trigger fingers.” Steve was incredibly thorough in his explanation because the last thing he wanted was for Tony to injure himself now or in the future due to Steve’s lack of clear instructions. 

Steve pulled back enough to put both hands on Tony’s upper arms, wrapping a hand around them. He was a thin boy but wiry, there was muscle there not just skin and bone, but it was definitely an area that could be improved and would also help with his shooting skills. 

Steve moved all the way back and told Tony to put the gun down and turn around to face him. When he did, Steve held up his hands, palms facing Tony, and fingers straight. 

“Hit it,” he told him. Tony looked shocked. “Come on, you know you won’t hurt me. Just give it all you got, one good punch.” When he seemed reluctant, Steve looked around until he saw James’ own boxing equipment. He picked up a pair of punching mitts and slid them on. “Better? Now hit as hard as you can.” Finally, Tony obeyed and threw a punch. Steve watched closely, noted his stance, his motions and follow-through, his wrist position and finger placement. When the fist found the glove, Steve felt it but only barely. 

He removed them and tossed them back into the corner. “If you‘d like, because it’ll help build your upper body strength for shooting, I can give you boxing lessons. If you’re more comfortable not hitting me,” he said, realizing this might be something Tony wouldn’t want to do with Steve, “Falsworth used to be a trainer.” 

“That’s why,” Tony nodded, slowly putting the pieces together of who was who and what they do. “Not a fan of hitting things.” Tony said. The reason why was probably clear enough.

Steve felt stupid for suggesting it now. How had he not thought of that? “Right,” he said and then asked, “That’s why what?”

“The first time I was in your gym, you were boxing with him. I wondered why,” he answered simply.

Steve nodded. “Let’s get back to the targets. Try to recreate how I had you a moment ago.” He watched as Tony did his best to recreate it and was impressed when he saw only a few mistakes. Steve tried not to end up so close to Tony again because when had he began to smell so nice? 

“Good, just widen your stance and take a shot. Don’t forget the forward lean. I don’t want you doing more harm than good.” Tony took a shot and this time it landed on the target. Not the bullseye but within a ring and that was progress. 

There was a lot for Tony to learn about shooting in general and also with his goal in mind. He wanted to focus and he managed to do so but there was also Steve standing impossibly close to him and Tony couldn't help but remember seeing him sleep topless. Steve’s muscles were prominent through the layers of clothing, his firm body so big that Tony would most likely be invisible. That thought was oddly comforting to Tony. He could disappear in Steve’s arms. In the warmth of his embrace, while his strong arms were wrapped around him. When his mind was going places it really shouldn’t go to, Tony pushed the thoughts down. He had to focus.

At first he was eager to see Howard’s face on those targets but it seemed more distracting than helpful. Shooting things relieved a lot of built-up tension in Tony’s body.

If there was one thing he didn’t like was having to hit Steve despite his reassurance that Tony wouldn’t be able to hurt him. He didn't like the thought of it, the sound of his fist hitting something or how he knew what being hit looked like. That simple exercise unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Shooting was easier. Shooting was better. 

By the time they were calling it a night, James was coming back home and came in to find them. Tony was taking a few shots when he came in, having changed to shooting the human-shaped target. Tony had managed a few good abdominal shots, places that would do a lot of damage but so far no kill shots. 

“Looking good, _mal’chik_ ,” James called out and Tony turned, keeping the gun facing forward. That had not been the case the first few times he had been distracted but now he knew better than to point it anywhere else. Hearing that word out of its usual context made Steve tense and send a glare James’ way. 

He was pulling off his tie, his white shirt splattered with blood but by the way he was smiling it didn’t seem to be his own. 

“He’s done well,” Steve said. “A quick learner.” James nodded as though he had expected as much and honestly, he had. “I think we should call it,” he told James, pointing with his head towards Tony who was now using the wall to support some of his weight, visibly tired. 

“Rest is important for muscle memory,” James agreed. “ _Were you still interested in the other thing?_ ” Steve’s eyes slid to Tony though his head stayed where it was and he nodded subtly.

Steve turned to Tony, reaching out for his gun and sliding it into the holster he wore. He put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to ask, “Would you mind riding home with Dugan? I’ve just got some business to attend to with James.” 

Tony’s eyes lingered for a moment on the blood on James’ shirt, wondering if the other person was still alive. There was no judgement in his thoughts but simple and honest curiosity. Though the Russians had a reputation for being more prone to violence when something wasn’t going their way. 

“Of course.” He nodded and put his coat on, getting ready to head out. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said to Steve and nodded to James with a small smile. It was still difficult for Tony to know where exactly he was with him but James must have been fine with him. “Good night,” he wished them on his way out.

Steve went upstairs with James to his bedroom while the other man got changed for their evening out. He sat on the end of his bed, sipping the drink Dmitri had made for him. They wouldn’t leave until Dugan was back to accompany them. 

Dmitri stayed downstairs in the living room doing a crossword while the bosses were upstairs. 

“How’s it coming with the _mal’chik?_ ” 

“How’s it look like it’s coming?” 

“Depends. You two seem to be creating quite the friendship.” Steve made a noise of annoyance. “What? Still hoping for more?” 

“No. Would I like it? Yes,” Steve said, his eyes closed as he rubbed his temple, a headache blossoming. “I just wanna do right by him.” 

“Very noble and not very selfish.” 

“Have I been known to be less of one and more of the other or is this just an observation you’re making?” James chuckled, coming over to stand in front of him. He was shirtless, only in his trousers, just as many scars and marks on him as Steve. He reached down and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and then it snaked up his neck until he was cradling his face. 

Steve was all too familiar with being touched like that by James and he missed it. It had been years and they didn’t often get moments together as private as this one. It was different from the touches he got from those he spent the night with at James’ brothel, as they were planning to do again now. Those people didn’t know Steve.

Steve sighed. James’ hand moved up to rest on his head, tilting it up so he’d have to look at him. 

“We don’t have to go, you know,” James said, his voice softer. “We can stay here. I’m guessing it’s been a while since you were with someone who knows what they’re doing.” He moved closer, close enough that he could feel Steve’s shaky exhale on his stomach. 

Steve wanted to say yes so badly. He wanted to remember what it was like to be with someone who cared about him, who knew him but he just couldn’t. He’d worked too long to get over James just to have meaningless sex now because it would never be meaningless. He was confused enough as it was with Tony, he didn’t need to add to it. 

He leaned away, moving his head out of James’ grip and shaking it. James took a step back and picked up his shirt from the dresser, acting like it had never happened and he’d never suggested it. Acting like someone who suggested casual sex would. Only problem was, that wasn’t what he was suggesting. 

“If we were teenagers again,” Steve began, “I’d have had it off with you before you could’ve asked and you know it.” He laughed and James did too but James’ was forced, his back still to Steve as he buttoned his shirt up. Steve stood, grabbing his jacket off the bed and pulling it on. “And I trust Dmitri and Dugan but everyone has a tipping point.” 

James turned around and tucked in his shirt, grabbing a tie. His expression was its usual blank default and he nodded in agreement with Steve’s last statement and then he smiled. 

“Time to party,” he said, grabbing his jacket as he swung open the bedroom door and they headed downstairs. With perfect timing, Dugan came in and they all headed back out to their cars, driving there separately. 

When Steve finally got home, he felt dissatisfied. By all means, it had been a good night—James had set him up with two different people, a man and a woman—but still, there was nothing memorable. Nothing noteworthy and he knew he’d likely never see either of them again and he was tired of it. He was tired of having to settle for the absolute least because what he truly was and wanted was illegal, punishable by death. 

Steve knew he liked women and men but he also knew that within that he still had a preference and he was damn tired of not being able to have with a man what he was allowed with a woman. 

He walked up the stairs, removing clothing as he went, and walked down the hallway of the second floor, hesitating when he got to Tony’s door. He pushed it open enough to peek in and see him sleep. So peaceful. While he slept, his face didn’t have any of the hard lines he had developed too early on in life from the hardships he endured. He looked rested and happy there on his side. 

Against his better judgement and being impossibly quiet, Steve moved in further and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders but Tony woke immediately, sitting up as soon as his eyes were open.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve said to a wide awake, nervous Tony.

It took him a moment to realize that nothing was happening and that it was Steve there with him. “Did something happen?” Tony asked, his voice still raspy from sleeping. “You okay?”

“No, everything’s fine, I just…” How did he tell him exactly what he’d been doing without it coming across as extremely creepy? Or, perhaps even worse, _fatherly_. “I just got home. I just wanted to check on you before I turned in.” He hoped that telling the truth would earn him some good karma points and not come back to haunt him. 

“You came home just now?” Tony asked looking for his watch but unable to find it. Then the rest of Steve’s words registered. “If you’re still worrying about the boxing, it’s fine,” he said, not sure why else Steve would check on him while he was sleeping. “I’m not entirely helpless, you know that, eh?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, checking his own watch when he finally found it in the pocket of the waistcoat he’d taken off. It was 4am. 

In all truthfulness, Steve had worried about the boxing thing but he’d checked on Tony just to see him. Just to know with certainty that he was still here. “I know you’re not helpless but my reputation aside, James was right when he said I care about you. About you all,” he added hastily. Steve swallowed hard. Why did those words scare him so much, all out in the open for Tony to hear like that? James had said them; what difference did it make now that he repeated them? 

“Reputation aside?” Tony asked and moved to sit properly, biting back a yawn. There was light coming from the hallway, but other than that it was dark in the room. “For what it’s worth, I care just as much about _aintín_ and you.” 

Steve looked confused when he asked that. Maybe his reputation didn’t reach as far as he thought. “I’m not known to be particularly… caring,” he explained. “I’m happy to hear it.” Steve didn’t know what to do now. Tony was awake and he was still awake and this was so far the best part of his evening—or early morning, rather—but he knew Tony needed to sleep. 

“That’s difficult for me to believe since you’ve been nothing but.” With the light coming from behind him Tony couldn’t really see Steve’s face but he didn’t want to turn on the light either. “Not talkative. Now that’s something I’d believe,” he said with a soft smile, now fully awake. 

Steve dropped his head, smiling too. He was glad Tony had not only formed his own opinion of him but one that differed so greatly from the norm. “I prefer to listen,” he said, feeling very candid. He wasn’t sure if it was all the alcohol still in his system or the special brand of happy that came from being in Tony’s presence, talking to him, but he just wanted to keep talking and then the early hour of the morning made itself known again. “I should let you sleep.” 

“You should let me sleep? I already slept longer than I usually do.” Tony shook his head. “If someone needs sleep, it’s you.”

“Believe it or not, that doesn’t really bring me much comfort to think waking at four in the morning is more sleep than usual,” he said, his tone half-worried, half-teasing. He dragged a hand down his face and moved to sit on the side of Tony’s bed, done standing for now. “I’m okay. I’ll probably just shower, have a kip and head to the gym,” he told him, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. It was a habit he had when he was tired, to mess with his hair, but he didn’t want to sleep. 

“Steve,” he said in a way that almost sounded as if he was scolding Benni. Almost. “I used to be last in bed and first up. I got four hours sleep tops. This counts as a full night’s rest.” He shrugged. “Your routine sounds much more worrisome.”

Steve looked up at the way Tony said his name, the unusual tone catching his attention and he wished he could see those eyes but turning on the light would take away the freedom the dark gave him. Or at least, the freedom he felt he had to just relax and speak openly. “Well, I still hope you got more than four hours tonight.” Against his will, he yawned and it was so deep it made his eyes water. “You know I sleep,” he said, remembering Tony coming to wake him at noon. “Sometimes more ‘an I oughtta, just not today.”

“And what would your ma say?” Tony said with a grin, raising his eyebrows which Steve couldn’t see. “I could get her, y’know,” he added even more teasingly. 

Steve chuckled. “You really—” yawn “—wanna risk wakin’ her up so early just to tell her I’m still up? Yer dancin’ on the fine line ‘tween bravery an’ stupidity.” He scooted further onto the bed. It was big enough that he didn’t worry about crowding Tony. “But she’d prob’ly say somethin’ about me needin’ta sleep,” he added, knowing his sentences were starting to border on repetition and nonsense but he didn’t care. 

Hearing the Irish accent more made Tony’s heart flutter. Something about Steve changed when he didn’t care about the way he spoke. He scooted away to give Steve more room and hummed softly, lowering his voice when he answered. 

Having raised Benni gave him enough ways to help someone fall asleep. One of those ways was speaking very softly in a low voice. 

“And your ma would be right. You work too much.” He gently pulled the top blanket to the middle between Steve and him. “Do you know what happens to boys who refuse to sleep?” Tony asked with a smile. “They’ll get sleepy, so _so_ sleepy. And their eyes get heavy.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “And they still refuse. There’s so much to see. So much to do. But it’s so warm in their bed. So comfortable and warm and safe.” 

Steve was lying on his back now, his eyes closing but he kept trying to keep them open. He reached for the blanket that he felt hit his elbow and pulled it towards him, listening to Tony. “Mm, ‘s comfortable an’ warm. Safe,” he mumbled. 

Tony hummed and got up slowly to pull the jacket Steve was still holding away from him. “Yes, very warm and comfortable,” Tony whispered. “But sleep is boring, right?” He couldn’t help but grin. “You can stay up. We can talk some more, hm? Instead of lying in bed. So warm.”

Steve had a mini-snore that woke him but only barely and he caught the end of Tony’s sentence. “Wanna talk. Wanna talk to ya, Tony,” he agreed, his eyes shutting again but he knew in his sleep-clouded mind that he _really_ wanted to talk to Tony. “Keep… talkin’.” 

“We _are_ talking, Steve. No reason to sleep.” He pulled the blanket further over him. There was one other thing that would put anyone to sleep immediately but did Tony really dare? Ever so carefully so as not to disturb Steve, he sat down on the bed next to him and reached out to run his hand through Steve’s hair. It was as soft as it looked. “Isn’t it comfortable?” He spoke slowly. 

Steve registered the movement, about to protest Tony leaving. He thought he was leaving because of Steve being there but then he felt a warm, gentle hand in his hair and he sighed happily, a sleepy smile on his face. “Thas luv’ly,” he barely managed, sleep threatening to win out. How he didn’t want to sleep! He wanted to keep talking to Tony. Tony who was right there! Tony who was playing with his hair! And… and… 

Steve was almost completely out when he reached out and found Tony’s other hand, resting his on top of it and then he was out, snoring lightly. 

“And that’s what happens to boys who refuse to sleep.” Tony smiled triumphantly. One hand still in Steve’s hair, the other holding his hand. Gently he intertwined their fingers and rubbed his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. He felt smaller scars there on his soft but firm skin, feeling the bones and muscles. Holding Steve’s hand, being this close to him and feeling the warmth of his body was incredibly nice.

When he finally realized what he was doing, thinking, and feeling, Tony nearly jumped. Not wanting to wake Steve, he slowly moved away from him and got up. 

What was he doing? 

Slowly he put Steve’s things over the couch trying to calm his fast beating heart. 

When Steve woke up he was disoriented for all of two minutes before remembering where he was and how he got there. He sat up, his head pounding and checked for Tony who was already gone. He grabbed his things from where Tony must’ve laid them on the couch. 

Once out in the hall he could smell breakfast but the thought of eating made him a little nauseous so he headed for the shower and then crashed in his own bed, frustrated with himself. 

After breakfast on Saturday Tony and Benni got dressed to go out. Steve was gone, his bedroom door closed, so he decided to leave him a note in front of his door, saying: “Out with Benni and Pepper. Will be back in the afternoon -TS.” Why he put his initials there, he didn’t know. Wasn’t like Benni or Sarah would leave him that kind of note but there was no changing it now. 

Pepper met with Tony at the Owl’s Head park together with two of her younger siblings who were eager to have a new friend to play with.

“Ev’ry week you look a wee bit better,” Pepper said and hugged Tony once the kids were off to play tag.

“Thanks, I feel better too,” he said and hugged her back awkwardly. Why did it feel nothing like the hug Steve had given him? What was up with him lately? 

“Somethin’ botherin’ ya?” Since they started seeing each other again, Pepper had been more open with Tony. They hadn’t spoken about anything that had happened, though she probably knew from what the neighbors had told others. Tony wasn’t interested in gossip about himself and it didn’t seem that Pepper wanted too many details either. 

“Not bothered, just thinking,” Tony said and watched the kids chase each other, laughing. It was still very cold but they seemed to enjoy it. Afterwards they planned to go to a diner to have hot cocoa and cake. Sarah had given Tony money and a kiss and told him to have fun. 

“So, yer werking for Mr Rogers then?” 

“If you want to call it that. I’m an errand boy and help here and there. Mainly making the best coffee any of them have ever had.” He grinned. Steve hadn’t told him to keep it a secret but from the way they were working around in order for no one to see that Tony was running the books now, he figured it would be a good idea not to tell her the truth. And he did still insist on making the coffee twice a day.

“And ya live with him?”

“In a way. Though I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone that.”

“I’m not going around telling people about ya, Tony. I’m asking as your friend.” She poked his arm and rolled her eyes. 

“Well, as your friend I tell you that I kind of live in a building that belongs to Steve.”

“Steve?” She repeated. 

“After everything, do you expect me to call him ‘sir’ or ‘Mr Rogers’?”

“Suppose not.” She shrugged and they went on talking about Pepper and what she had been up to over the holidays, what presents she had received and given. Which was when she pulled out a box packed in brown paper with a bow on top. It was a box full of christmas cookies. “Don’t worry, I baked ‘em fresh for ya and the lil’ one when you called the other day.” 

“Thank you, Pep. I got nothing for you.”

“It’s just cookies. Don’t sweat it.”

When it got too cold for them, they called the kids and went to the closest diner where Tony treated them all to hot drinks and cake.

“Can we bring _aintín_ cake too?” Benni asked, making Pepper turn around to face him.

“Who’s _aintín_?”

Before the boy could answer her, Tony did by simply looking at her. He didn’t know how much of Steve’s life was actually public knowledge and he wasn’t about to risk giving anything away. No matter to whom. Pepper didn’t push further, Benni understood and that was that. 

“So, Benni. How’s life treatin’ ya in the new corner?” Pepper asked.

“It’s nice. I have so many books now and Tony and I read them together. And there’s always someone around teaching me Gaelic. I used to think it was called ‘Garlic’ and Jones thought it was funny. And I have a second big brother now, too. That’s so grand!” 

Tony looked at him and furrowed his brows and asked “Second big brother? Who’s that?”

“Steve, obviously,” Benni laughed and Tony froze. Was Steve his big brother now? Was that how Steve saw him? As a little brother who came with an additional even younger little brother? Was that what they were? Why Steve was so comfortable around Tony? Why he wanted to talk to him? Help him? 

“You look like ya seen a ghost,” Pepper joked, stealing a marshmallow from Tony’s untouched hot cocoa. “Does it bother ya not to be the big brother anymore?”

“I don’t want a big brother,” Tony stated and shook his head. Why did this bother him as much as it did? Did it matter if he was his big brother or friend? That thought made him shiver. He wanted neither. Couldn’t it simply be Tony and Steve? Not anyone’s brother or the kid who got hurt and needed saving. Just Tony who worked with him. Who Steve was so comfortable around that he fell asleep next to him? Trusted him? 

For the rest of their time together Tony barely said another word, too lost in his thoughts. 

In front of the building, the two men spoke to Pepper, welcoming her back and then continuing in Gaelic. They obviously thought she was a beautiful girl and Pepper didn’t seem to mind the attention they were giving her, seeing as she winked at them and gave them her sweetest smile. 

“It was nice, Pep. I’ll see you around?” Tony asked and she nodded. They hugged before Tony and Benni went inside. Tony was taking the long way back to the house, not knowing if it would be a good idea to use the front door. It was unusual for him to head out without Steve or Sarah and he should probably talk to one of them about what to say and how to behave. 

“Did you have a good time, pet?” Sarah greeted them in the living room and Benni told her about his new friends and the new words he learned from them. “What ‘bout you, _a grhá_?” She asked Tony who was still standing there. 

“It was nice, thanks. C’mon, _cucciolo,_ let’s get you cleaned up and changed.”

Steve found the note after showering and immediately called Jones who was more than happy to get a free lunch courtesy of Steve in exchange for keeping an eye on Tony and Benni from a distance. 

He’d spent the majority of his morning in his room with the door closed, just lying on his bed deep in thought. What on earth was he thinking last night? Or rather, this morning. 

Going in there had been risky enough, carrying on a conversation when he was so sleep deprived and tipsy was just plain dangerous and then to actually fall asleep in Tony’s bed? Was he _trying_ to run him off? It seemed like that was what Steve wanted when he examined his actions. The worst part was that he couldn’t even remember most of the conversation. He hoped to hell he hadn’t said anything damning. 

He reached up to feel his still slightly damp hair and remembered a hand there. Tony’s hand. Tony’s hand had been in his hair but why?

 _Oh god_ , he hoped he hadn’t felt obligated to do that. Like he was so indebted to Steve—which he wasn’t even a little bit—that he would have to do something he probably found disgusting just to keep him happy. 

Steve shuddered in bed. It was the first time in a while that he felt disgusted by who he was. Not a mobster but rather who he liked. He’d enjoyed having his hair played with but had Tony enjoyed doing it? Had Steve… _asked_ him to? 

There was a knock and then Sarah opened the door when Steve said she could come in. “Hey, pet, everything a’right?” she asked in that soft, soothing voice of hers. She came in further, shutting the door behind her and sitting on the bed, her hand dropping onto Steve’s foot and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

Steve explained to her what had happened and she listened objectively, nodding her head as he spoke. 

“Did he seem… uncomfortable this morning?” Steve asked her. She thought back and then shook her head. 

“No, he seemed fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Stevie, love, it’s alright. You didn’t run him off. If anything it probably made him feel _more_ comfortable.” When Steve’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion, she continued. “The lad adores you. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you but I have. Now I’m not sure that means anything more than what it is, but I can promise ya haven’t run him off.” 

Steve looked at her for a long few seconds before nodding and thanking her. He brought his hands up to his face and sighed into them and it turned into a yawn. 

She patted his shin and stood. “Why don’t you have a kip, I’ll bring you tea and biscuits in an hour so you don’t sleep the day away, hm?” He nodded, already beginning to drift and when he laid down, she insisted on tucking him in. Sarah tucked in her mob boss son and she didn’t think any less of him for letting his mother do it nor did he protest. Sometimes he just needed his ma. 

She stood by the door, looking at her son while he slept and then she tiptoed over to press another kiss to his golden hair and back out she went, happy with how that had gone. 

By the time Tony and Benni arrived back home, Steve was in the library listening to music. He was lying on one of the couches, arms crossed over his chest, one leg up at an angle and the other straight out, his eyes closed. The record player filled the room with big band, saxophones and trumpets, easy on the ear voices and fun lyrics. 

Steve tapped his foot along to the song, relaxed, reaching over blindly to grab another of the biscuits his ma had brought in for him. He read for a little while but then his eyes got too tired so he gave up and put on the record, happy to just sit and not be focusing on anything for a while. 

+

The following day Steve and Tony went back to James’ basement to continue gun training with Tony. He had memorized the things Steve had told him the last time which made everything much easier but also offered less opportunities for Steve to be close to Tony. That thought was pushed away as soon as it had popped up in his mind. 

On the third day, after having worked until the early afternoon and then going back to training in the evening James joined them in the basement and after watching Tony for a while he walked up to him.

“So, you ready to do this?” 

Tony turned his head to James. He was ready then? He looked back to the targets and nodded. He knew what he wanted to ask. He knew what he had to do. What he _wanted_ to do. 

“Right away?” Tony asked, having given the gun back to Steve, who then looked to James and James shrugged in response. Tony looked down at himself. He was still in his suit from work. It would be the first time since Maria’s funeral that Howard would see Tony in a suit. And it would be his last time too. It would also be the last time Tony would ever have to see Howard. The sooner he got that done, the sooner he could get over it. 

“Tony?” Steve asked and Tony turned his attention back to Steve who was looking at him intensely. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Tony confirmed, grateful for Steve making sure that he was. 

The drive was a silent one and oddly enough, Tony didn’t feel nervous or anxious. Neither did he really look forward to it, which was just as odd. Soon Tony found himself in front of the hospital he was treated in. It made sense to keep someone locked in plain sight and Tony was impressed by their way of thinking. They entered through one of the backdoors and took an elevator to the fifth floor. A few men were scattered along the corridor of the floor and they all nodded when they saw Steve and James but they didn’t acknowledge them on their way to the back. 

They stopped in front of a grey door and looked at Tony. He gave them a silent nod before Steve opened the door and let Tony in first. Someone turned on the bright lights, making Howard cover his eyes. He was dressed poorly. He was thin, had grown a beard and looked exhausted. There were several wounds and bruises all over his body. Knowing who inflicted those on him made Tony feel good. It wasn’t a random act of violence. It was revenge. 

No one said anything and Tony knew that Steve and James were in the room with him but he didn’t care. Or rather, he didn’t mind. James who had found him and had stopped Howard from killing him and then gave him the best possible treatment. Steve who had taken him in, given him a new home and a job, a purpose. They knew what they had been doing, what needed to be done and they had his back. 

Howard looked at Tony and it obviously took him a moment to recognize him. When he did, he laughed and leaned against the wall behind him.

“Do you think dressing like them changes anything? That it changes _you_? Who you are and _what_ you are?” Despite the condition he was in Howard did not care for him, not that Tony had expected anything else. “You’re nothing. A whore, like your mother was. Someone like you could never be a son of mine.” Howard spat and Tony heard James take a step forward but he shook his head without looking away from Howard. 

“Believe me, I wish I wasn’t your son,” Tony said, one hand in his pocket. Howard laughed. It was a dry laugh, it made him cough and then it took him a minute to calm back down. 

“You’re not. Your whore mother was pregnant when we got married. I was stupid enough to marry her while she was pregnant from some italiano bastard.” He laughed again and now it was Steve who tensed up visibly but he did nothing.

Tony took a moment to think about Howard’s words. “You would have never hurt Benni, would you?”

“Why would I hurt my own flesh and blood?” Howard scoffed and Tony nodded.

Tony pulled out the gun, aimed at Howard’s forehead and said, “Go to hell, Howard,” before pulling the trigger.

Howard died with a surprised look on his face, about to raise his hands and probably wanting to say something, maybe even beg for his life. He never got to do that. Tony turned around and gave Steve back his gun and nodded. James opened the door and let Tony out, followed by Steve. He whistled and said something in Russian and two men nodded to confirm whatever order they had been given. 

Tony’s nightmare was finally over. It would never come back. Howard Stark could never hurt or insult him ever again. Tony could finally move on from the torture that had been his life for the longest time. His mother could finally rest in peace. His brother could grow up without fearing his father. 

Steve and James watched from behind, wishing they’d done more, hurt him more so he couldn’t even speak. How he found the strength, the will, to talk to that boy like that when he knew his torturers were five feet away and more than willing to let him have it was beyond them. 

They took turns keeping each other back while he spoke. James moving forward when he spat but Tony shook his head and Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Steve tensed when Howard told Tony the truth. Steve had known for a while—Dugan brought him the information—and he figured Tony did too until he saw his reaction, then he was back to wanting to stab James’ knife through Howard’s eye. 

The execution was quick, precise. Tony had learned well and when he walked away, so did they. If he was done, they were done. 

Tony stopped and looked at Steve, who waited for him to say something. 

“I would like to visit my mother’s grave, if that’s okay with you.” 

Steve nodded without hesitation and they drove to the cemetery where Maria and Daniella Stark were buried. From a nearby flower shop Tony bought two bouquets of their favorite flowers—red and white roses for Maria, and two kinds of daisies for Daniella-and headed for their gravestones. They had been buried next to each other and even though Tony had never come back there after their funerals, he knew exactly where to find them. 

With the handkerchief in his pocket he cleaned the names written on the stones and placed the bouquets in front of them.

He was crouched down in between the gravestones and smiled softly. “ _Riposare in pace_ ,” he said and ran his fingers over his mother’s name. 

James and Steve watched from a distance while Tony visited the graves of his mother and little sister, bringing them flowers. Behind Steve and James stood Dugan and Dmitri but some ways back, unable to hear their whispered conversation 

“Do you think he’s alright?” 

“Too early to tell.” 

“Howard was a wrongly made human but taking any life doesn’t leave you the same,” James commented. He remembered the first time he’d killed someone and it still haunted him in his dreams from time to time. No one seemed to have noticed, but Steve had a trick every time. He always killed them mid-sentence. If they weren’t talking he made them talk. Hearing them declare their wrongs and try to justify them made it easier somehow. 

“He’s strong for someone so young,” Steve said. 

“So were you,” James said, flinching internally at the memory of Steve’s cries the days following his first. “Just keep an eye on him.”

“You think I wasn’t planning to?” 

“Calm down. He doesn’t need us to be agitated right now.” Why did James sound so much like Sarah? Steve sighed. “Did you expect it to be so sudden?” His voice was quieter now, sprinkled with worry. 

Steve shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t have done it so fast to my own da but then again, had he killed my ma I would’ve.” 

“Sadly too true.” James turned to look at Steve, see the concern in his eyes and features, the way he held his jaw tight. “What is it?” 

“He’s got no more reason to stay.” 

“Good thing you hired him as your accountant because your math skills are severely lacking. He’s got at least four reasons—you, Sarah, a home, a job—or five, if I may be so bold and assume he has any thoughts towards me other than ‘scary’.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Don’t maybe me, Steve. He likes being around you.” That was the second time someone had told him as much so why couldn’t he believe it? Why was it so much easier to think that Tony would want to get away as soon as possible? “Speak.” 

“I don’t want him to leave.” 

It was absolutely unreal to Tony that he had killed Howard. He knew he had practiced shooting, he knew Steve and James had been keeping him alive for this, he knew he had spoken to him. He had seen the blood, heard the gunshot, felt the recoil, smelled the gunpowder. It was over. And yet… 

James and Dmitri headed home in their car and Dugan drove them to Steve’s home. Tony could hear Dugan say something but he didn’t know if he was talking to Steve or him. Did it matter? Once they got to the house, Benni ran to Tony and told him about something great that happened that day. Then there was suddenly nothing and the next thing Tony knew he was in his casual clothes and sitting at the dinner table with the others. The food smelled delicious but he wasn’t hungry. 

“Won’t you eat something?” Sarah asked and Tony looked down at his plate. The potatoes looked delicious but he didn’t feel hungry. “That’s alright,” she said softly and rubbed his back but Tony hated the touch. 

Steve exchanged a look with Sarah. He’d told her immediately what happened and to keep an eye on Tony, be in his space if necessary but not to let him be alone for too long. 

“Tony?” Benni asked on their way upstairs. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, _cucciolo_. Everything’s fine.” He smiled and got himself and Benni ready for bed. They went through their usual evening routine and Tony even managed to read him half a chapter of his book before he told him good night and gave him a kiss. 

That part was easy. Being there for his brother had been his only task for years. The difficult part was dealing with the time alone. First, he took a nice long shower, feeling as if he could wash off the numbness from his body. It didn’t work. Then he put on his sleeping clothes and laid down in his beautifully spacious bed, but it seemed to swallow him up. No, he couldn’t stay there. For a second he considered reading but if Sarah or Steve saw the light in his room they would get worried and he definitely didn’t want that. So he pulled the curtains open to let in some of the light from the street and stared outside. For a time it helped to think of nothing, do nothing, simply observe the world until the silence became deafening. 

From far away, he heard the grandfather clock chime 2am. He had at least five more hours alone. As silently as possible Tony headed to the library in the dark, trying not to disturb anyone if he could help it. Once inside he closed the door just as silently and turned on the lights, heading straight for the record player and turning on some soft music on the lowest volume possible. Just something that wasn’t silence. That’s all he wanted. 

The next thing Tony remembered was hearing the clock again, now louder than before. He found himself on the couch, curled up and hugging a cushion. It was quite comfortable and he dared to close his eyes, stretch a little but where there should have been more of the couch and more room for Tony, he hit someone while stretching. His immediate reaction was to jump up and get ready to run. Then he recognized Steve.

“W-what are you doing here?” Tony asked, completely confused. 

Steve woke slowly, his neck aching, and looked over at Tony. “Same idea, I suppose,” he explained. “But I didn’t want to wake you when I got in here, so I decided to sleep.” He patted the cushion beside him for Tony to come back and sit.

It was very unlike him not to notice someone entering the room. The fact that Steve had managed meant that either Tony was trusting him more than he was aware or that Steve was just a lot sneakier. Slowly he sat back down and took deep breaths. It was fine. If there was someone he could trust, it was Steve. 

“Sorry, you just scared me there,” he said as he sat down, facing Steve. 

“No need to apologize. I should’ve known better than to do something like that after waking you the other day,” he said, keeping the conversation away from that afternoon. He watched Tony, his hands, his eyes, the way he held his shoulders and how he sat. Even the distance he had put between himself and Steve. 

He stayed where he was, not touching him. “Wanna talk? Doesn’t matter what about.” 

Tony rested his head against the couch and tried to think of something to say. Something to talk about. “Have you traveled a lot?” 

“Not as much as I would’ve liked. A bit around Ireland. Apart from New York, I’ve seen Boston. Got distant relatives there. Maybe one day I’d like to do some more.” He knew better than to ask Tony considering his situation so instead he asked, “Ever been to Italy?”

“How’s Ireland?” He asked and thought back to the green painting in Steve’s room. “Once. When I was eight, I believe. Spent a whole summer in the village where my mom was born.” He smiled when he thought of that memory. 

“Green. Lush. Best when it’s raining. When it’s sunny, it's nice but when it rains… boy. There’s just this atmosphere it creates, everybody’s chuffed to be out in it, singin’ an’ dancin’. I love it, it’s a grand thing.” He didn’t realize how much he missed it until Tony asked him. 

Tony listened closely to Steve’s words. “I can’t imagine liking rain. But the way you put it, it sounds beautiful.” He smiled. “What else? Is it true that there are pubs at every corner? And everyone likes to drink?” 

Steve chuckled. “Every single corner. It’s barely even a question at the end—or sometimes the start—of the day if everyone’ll end up at a pub. It’s just a natural thing to do. Get up, go to work, go get a pint o’Guiness at McCreary’s Tavern,” he said, remembering the last time he’d gone—a year ago—and had this exact experience. “If you find an Irishman or woman who doesn’t like to drink, they’re probably not Irish.” 

“Probably like an Italian who doesn’t like food,” Tony said and hugged the cushion closer. “What else?” Speaking drained a lot of his energy. More than he realized. But he wanted to listen to Steve. Better yet, rest against him. 

“Exactly,” he laughed. “Oh, the views! They’re spectacular. You’ve seen that picture in my room?” 

Tony hummed and closed his eyes thinking of the painting. He hummed in the back of his throat, unable to form a word. 

“My ma painted that up in a place called the Glens of Antrim in far Northern Ireland. About an hour and a wee bit from Belfast,” he said, once again his accent slipping with the tiredness and excitement. “I used to beg my ma to drive up there every weekend. I’d stand up on the cliff’s edge to look out and she’d bust a vein yelling at me to move back, afraid the wind would blow my skinny arse all the way to Scotland.” 

He turned to look at Tony, frowning at how little space he now had on the couch because of Steve’s presence. “Here, stretch out,” he told him, putting a cushion on his lap for Tony’s feet. “Really, I don’t mind. I’d tell ya if I did.” 

He smiled at the idea of a skinny Steve. He’d seen the pictures but it was still difficult to believe. “I like being curled up,” he mumbled. A tight space he could control. 

Steve carried on talking. “I’m from Belfast,” he said, “but I only lived there until I was about four, then we came here. I didn’t speak any English at the time. My… father had a firm Gaelic only rule in the house. I didn’t mind, I loved the language. I still do.” He skipped over any other memories of his father and then said, “Coming here was hard at first. Very different. I hated it. I was small and talked ‘funny,’” he said, “and I got bullied a lot. That’s how I met James actually. Not—he wasn’t a bully. He scared some others off though. I started following him around like a lost puppy even though he was two classes up from me. I think I wore him down rather than him liking me from the start.” He laughed, remembering that made him grin. 

Tony bit back a sigh. He liked hearing him talk and it helped but there were just so many words to hear and react to. Still he hummed every now and then, indicating that he was still listening. While Steve was talking about Ireland he remembered the summer in Italy—the memories that had been from so long ago they must have been altered in his mind. He remembered the bright and warm sun, many people talking and laughing, some music in the background. And then he saw a flash of Howard’s face and the blood spatter behind his head. Tony opened his eyes in shock and sat up straight. 

Steve had been watching Tony, having stopped talking a while ago. He watched the change in Tony’s expression even with his eyes closed and he moved closer to him. When he suddenly sat up, Steve wanted to reach out but didn’t touch him. Instead he held his hands out, offering the touch if it was wanted. 

“Tony,” he said, speaking softly. “Come back to me.” 

He stared at Steve, then at his hands and without thinking about it he reached one hand out to him. 

Steve closed his hand around Tony’s and scooted closer until he had Tony right up against him, still holding his hand. He reached with his free hand and put it around Tony’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “This okay?” he asked, not holding him tightly so Tony could move away if he wanted or needed. 

Tony rested against him unsure of what to say or what to do. Steve was warm and big and right there. His heart was beating faster but at the same time it hurt. Ever so slightly Tony leaned against Steve’s side

Steve wanted to pull him all the way in his lap and cuddle him to his chest. To press kisses into his hair and wipe away any sign of tears. He wanted to rock him and sing to him until he fell asleep in his arms. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead he settled for what he had because Tony seemed comfortable with that. To push his own agenda—especially in a moment like this—would just be vile, a terribly selfish thing. He wasn’t sure if he should continue talking. Maybe it was helping but it didn’t seem to be. 

“It’s not easy,” he finally said. “I know it isn’t. So don’t feel like it has to be easy. It wasn’t for me. Or James. And the fact that it’s not easy is a testament to your character,” Steve said, hoping the words brought him some measure of comfort. 

Tony tensed hearing Steve’s words. Not that. Anything but that. “Not yet,” he said and hid his face against Steve’s side. He’d rather hear more about a country he’d probably never see. 

“Okay,” he said and continued talking about Ireland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, Im95notdead (me) was traveling and unable to edit and post but to make up for it, please enjoy this 10k+ chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps Tony deal with the toll killing takes on a person while reminding him of his worth. James confesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: neither I nor Blanket pretend to be experts in handling PTSD or anything else, we're just going by what we know and research we've done. Also, don't forget this is 1949.

It was Sarah who found Steve and Tony hours later still curled up asleep on the couch. She could tell by the way Tony was rolled up into a ball against Steve’s side that he wasn’t handling it very well. Not that there was a good way to handle it and not that it came as a shock that he’d handle it this way either, but still. 

She decided against waking them and instead went back to her room, got dressed to go out, and made two phone calls. She left a note on the side of Benni’s dresser next to his favorite toy where she knew he wouldn’t miss it. He had a habit of looking for her in the morning after he’d gone to greet his brother and she didn’t want him to get upset when he couldn’t find her. 

She walked outside and was immediately greeted by Dugan who opened the car door for her. 

“Good morning, Timothy, love,” she said, once he was at the steering wheel, adjusting the mirror so he could see her. He nodded his head at her and smiled. 

“Good morning, Ms Rogers.” She gave him a look and he corrected himself. “Good morning, Sarah.” She saw no need for formality with those whom she considered close to her and her son. 

Dugan drove her the twenty minutes across Brooklyn and they chatted a little here and there. She asked him about the girl he’d been seeing and he gave her the full summary of their relationship so far, grinning like a goof as he spoke about her and it made Sarah glad to see one of the boys in her life happy and in love. 

When they arrived, Dugan turned and asked her if she’d like for him to wait outside and she told him no. She had a ride to get back home. He nodded and drove off once she was inside the building. 

The men at the doors nodded to her respectfully, opened the doors and offered to take her coat, which she accepted and they hung it up on a hanger in a big closet near the entrance. 

She waited a moment in the foyer, knowing the way but just in case there was business going on that she should remain oblivious to, she decided against showing herself to the office. 

A moment later, she heard footsteps and then the black-haired, green-eyed man came bounding down the steps, not eager to be accused of making Sarah Rogers wait. He smiled at her, extending his arm for her to take and she did, first kissing each of his cheeks and then he led her up the stairs to the office, asking her how she was. 

“I’ve been grand, lad,” she told him. 

“And Mr Rogers?”

“A wee bit overworked but otherwise good, thank you for asking, Dmitri.” 

Despite having just left the room, out of respect and a healthy amount of fear, he knocked on the door and heard the words telling him to enter. He pushed the door open, holding it wide enough that Sarah could get past him easily. She thanked him and he ducked out, nodding to her and to his boss. 

Sarah held out her arms for the incoming hug and cheek kisses and was led to a comfortable leather chair in the office that sat across from the big oak desk at an angle. The office was much more elaborate than Steve’s. Steve had simple but good taste. He liked things well-built and beautiful. He didn’t need additional designs or embellishments if they weren’t a part of the initial creation and added no functional benefits. 

James however was a tad more ostentatious. Large intricately crafted, dark wood cabinets lined the walls on either side, heavy, rolling dark grey curtains behind him creating the most dramatic backdrop she’d ever seen. The ceiling was high and the panelling around it and the floor very detailed in its design. It looked like the waves of a tempestuous sea all along the ground and clouds in the paneling up top. 

His desk was made of the same dark wood, so dark it was almost black, and topped with a leather inset on top of it that matched the dark grey color of the curtains.

Seeing as this was his place of business and not his home, he had no personal belongings or paraphernalia. She knew in his home office that he had a whole row dedicated to his parents and another for Sarah and Steve. Not here. James might not be someone many—or any—wanted to challenge but while the Russians took loyalty to a whole new level, they did the same of volatility.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, _maya dorogaya_?” 

She smiled. “Lots to talk about. Thought we needed a bit longer than a few quick words after dinner.” He nodded. “You busy?” 

He leaned forward, resting his bruised knuckles on his desk with a small smile. “Not anymore.” 

Sarah explained the situation she had woken up to and everything going on with Steve in relation to Tony. James told her what he knew as well, the things Steve had told him over the past couple months as well as what he said while Tony visited the graves. 

Sarah sat back and hummed, thinking. She chewed her bottom lip like Steve did when he was deep in thought. James smiled at the similarity. 

“You still not planning on telling then?” 

“What good can possibly come from me telling Steve I’m in love with him?” He dragged a hand down his face. “We can never be together anyway because of who we are but more than that, I’m not the one _he’s_ in love with.” 

“What happened?” Sarah asked, frowning. She’d always waited for Steve to come out and tell her about himself and his relationship with James and when he never did, she didn’t want to intrude on him and his life by asking him about it. Now she could and she’d always wanted to know why they didn’t keep it up. 

“I could tell he never felt the same and I didn’t want him with me just because I was the only option of that sort,” he explained. “So I broke it off. Started dating some girl. Don’t even remember her name. Steve and I never revisited it and then we started building, well, this,” he said, gesturing to the room around him. “It became more difficult even just to see each other for a drink as friends. More was near impossible and now? Now it’s too late.” 

“It’s not.”

“Why are you so against him and Tony?” 

She was already shaking her head before he finished his question. “I’m not against it. I love that lad. He’s a sweetheart and a good person but I don’t want to watch my boy longing for someone who may never want him back.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple. “You know him like no one else.” 

“I do, as he does me but it doesn’t matter if I’m not the one he loves.” 

“You don’t know that he’s in love with him.” 

“Come on, Sarah,” he said, getting frustrated, “just because he hasn’t said the words doesn’t make them any less true or obvious. I know you know. Of course you do. If you knew I loved him and I like to think I hide it well, then you can also see he loves Tony.” 

“I don’t want to see either of my boys longing for people who may never want them back,” she said softly. “At least if you tell him and it doesn’t work out you can maybe start moving on.” James was shocked. He hadn’t expected that. “It breaks my heart to see you look at him the way you do.” James dropped his gaze and Sarah stood and made her way around his desk to lean down and hug him, her cheeked pressed against his. She pulled away just enough to press her lips to his cheek and he closed his eyes, sighing. 

“Thank you.” 

“For the kiss?” 

“For being there for me after they couldn’t be,” he said, referring to his parents who had died in a car accident when he was younger. “I’ll tell him. If for no one and nothing else then for you. Not right now though. He’s got enough going on worrying about Tony.” 

“He does,” she agreed, going back to sit in her chair. “But don’t put it off forever.” 

“I won’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you eaten breakfast?” She shook her head and James pressed a button on his desk beside the phone. Dmitri came in. 

“ _Da, Winter_?” He said, holding a notepad and James put in a breakfast order for his chef downstairs. Dmitri nodded and headed off. 

When Steve woke up, Tony was still curled into his side and without being able to see his face, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or still sleep. He didn’t want to lean down to check for fear of waking him either, so he just stayed there with his thoughts and the wonderful feeling that was Tony in his arms. 

It had been so long since he’d tried speaking consolingly to someone or tried to be gentle. He and his mother were rarely gentle with one another as was their way and he and James had such an understanding of one another that it wasn’t necessary. It was easy with Benni because Steve knew where he stood with him. He was a big brother figure. It was not easy with Tony because a big brother was the last thing he wanted to be but he also realized that it might be what Tony needed. 

He wondered what time it was. He turned his head slightly to see the clock that told him it was 9am. He couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was at the moment. Thursday? That sounded about right. Whatever the case, he wasn’t moving from his spot anytime soon. If he was needed, Dugan would come find him. 

It was a few moments later that he heard footsteps and knew they didn’t belong to his mother. Benni pushed the door open and came in. 

“ _Buongiorno_ ,” he said, yawning as he entered. It must’ve been a public holiday as well otherwise Benni would be getting ready for school. Sarah would never have let him miss a day for no reason. 

“Good morning, lad,” Steve said, sure that if Tony wasn’t already awake, he was now. Benni came over and crawled into Steve’s lap. 

“Why are you guys in here?” He asked.

As soon as he heard Benni's voice Tony was awake. Not that he had really slept. His eyes were closed and he dozed off every now and then but that didn’t count as proper sleep. Tony sat up and looked at Benni with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss his forehead. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked instead of answering his question. Sometimes Benni looked much younger than he was and other times he looked older. Once he looked at his big brother’s face Benni seemed to be much older. 

“Did you?”

“I’m fine, little one. Only a big brother is allowed to worry, don’t forget that, eh?” he said and ruffled Benni’s hair. 

Benni thought about this and then leaned over to Steve, gesturing for him to come closer. Steve leaned down and Benni cupped his hands around his ear, whispering something. Steve chuckled until he realized what doing it would imply but he had to, right? 

He turned to Tony and said, “Benni told me to ask you how you really slept since I’m… the biggest… brother.” Steve tried his hardest to think of another way to put it and then he turned to Benni to answer his question himself and stop this madness. “He slept, alright. Didn’t even hear me come in to play music.” Which was not a lie. 

He moved to stand, removing his arm from Tony’s shoulders and lifting Benni easily to drop him beside his brother. Steve stretched and everything ached from sleeping upright, all his joints cracking. How did he manage to make his late twenties feel so old? “I’m going to shower,” he told them, and headed out. 

Something about the way Steve stressed being the biggest brother was making Tony feel better. So he didn’t agree with that either? Shortly after Steve, Tony decided to get ready for the day as well. 

The three of them met in different clothes in the kitchen and looked around. There was no Sarah or breakfast. Without saying a word, Tony started preparing scrambled eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches. His eyes slid to the coffee machine in Sarah’s kitchen. Her coffee was alright but he used to his much stronger coffee again. He met Steve’s eyes who looked at him with questions but Tony simply shook his head. Everything was fine. His biggest worry was coffee that wasn’t quite strong enough for him. 

He served their food, Steve pouring Benni hot cocoa and then looking at Tony and pouring him the rest. 

“You don’t seriously think of me as a little brother, do you?”

“Not at all,” Steve said, probably too fast but he couldn’t go back and fix it so he just cringed internally and asked Tony the corresponding question. “You think of me as your big brother?”

“No,” Tony said and shook his head. At least that was clear to both of them. It almost made Tony smile.

Steve came up with and shot down four other additions to the conversation before finally settling on, “so what do you think of me as?”

They sat down, Tony still thinking about an answer. He shrugged and shook his head. “ _Not_ a brother though. Definitely a friend.” But also not that. Or _not only_ that? 

Steve nodded, processing that. At least he wasn’t his brother. He could live with anything else. 

As Steve poured himself a cup of coffee, complimenting Tony on the breakfast, they heard the front door open and shut. Steve being who he was grabbed his knife off the table, and held it in a defensive position until he saw his mother come around the corner. 

She didn’t even look at him, digging for something in her bag but said, “Put the knife away, pet,” and found her lip balm. She stopped and got a look at the table. “And which of you lot made this delicious looking meal?” There was a big smile on her face, her blue eyes bright and she put her bag on the counter and came to sit down with them. 

She reached out to Benni and ruffled his hair and he smiled. Then her eyes fell on Tony and Steve. She wondered what had happened since she’d been gone but she didn’t ask. She was still processing everything with James. 

“Welcome,” Tony greeted her, poking his eggs. With Sarah there he needed to eat, not wanting to worry her when there was nothing to worry about. He could feel himself closing up again like he did yesterday after what happened. And then there was Steve's question. When he finished his eggs he watched Steve get his seconds and looked him up and down. No. Not a brother. 

Steve leaned in to kiss Sarah’s cheek before sitting down with his new plate of eggs and his sandwich. He pulled it apart slightly to put the eggs in the sandwich and bit down happily. Sarah watched her son; he’d always had weird eating habits. 

“What did you get up to?” Steve asked trying not to make it sound like he was demanding to know her whereabouts because he knew that would only get him a good telling-off. 

“Went to see James,” she said casually. 

“Oh. That’s really nice,” he said, definitely not expecting that answer but at least he didn’t feel like he needed to worry about her if that’s where she had been.

“Be a dear and take care of the dishes,” Sarah said to no one in particular. Or so Tony thought. “ _A ghrá_ , come with me.” Tony pointed to himself just to make sure she was talking to him. “Come on then. We’ll be in the library,” she said and Tony tried to think of something that he might have done to upset her. He didn’t want to upset Sarah. 

Once in the library she sat down and patted the spot next to her, making Tony think about how similar Steve was to her. He sat down next to her, still trying to think of what could have upset her. 

When Tony sat, she moved closer to him when he left space between them and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him over until he was almost in her lap like a small child. She rested her head on top of his and made a happy sound. 

“You know, _a ghrá,_ I promised you I’d give you a proper hug once you were all healed,” she told him, her voice soft, soothing. “Since it’s been a while since you’ve been out of that cast, I figured I owed you more than one lousy hug.” She held him tighter, laying her head on the side so her cheek was pressed against his soft hair.

Tony didn’t know what to do. Sarah had pulled him away to hug him. She wasn’t upset or mad. Tony hadn’t done anything wrong? After a few moments in silence he allowed himself to relax. And after a while longer he wrapped an arm around her to be closer to her comforting warmth. Resting against Steve had been peaceful and warm but resting against Sarah... He closed his eyes and breathed in her gentle perfume and other comforting scents. 

At first his tears fell silently, which he was grateful for because he felt ashamed for crying. But then breathing became more difficult the more he cried and it ended in full on sobs and him hiding his face in her shoulder as he did. 

Sarah had hoped for this, though with Tony not a lot could really be expected. All she did was pull him even closer to her, one hand on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair and the other on his back, rubbing comforting circles the same way she did with her other boys. 

She didn’t shush him or otherwise try to quiet him. He needed to get it out and not feel like doing so was anything requiring hushing. She rocked him gently, reassuring him that she had him, he was safe. 

“That’s right, _a ghrá,_ get it all out. I’m here,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his hair again. “I’ve got you.” 

From outside in the hall, Steve listened in. He never entered but just stood outside and it broke his heart but if anyone was going to help, it would be his mother. 

Tony didn’t know how long he had been resting in her arms crying his heart out. There were a lot of pent up emotions that washed over him, overwhelmed him and yet he found comfort in Sarah’s arms. Some time later—Tony wasn’t sure how much time had passed—he noticed how Sarah was still holding him even though he had stopped crying. He wanted to move away, give her space but as if she had read his mind she wrapped her arms tighter around him. Moments later Tony fell asleep, giving in to his exhaustion.

When he woke up again his head was in Sarah’s lap and on the other couch were Steve and Benni, all of them reading their own books while classical music played in the background. Almost immediately there was a hand on his forehead and someone leaning down to kiss his cheek. 

“Was I out long?” He asked, feeling sorry for Sarah who stayed with him the whole time. 

“Not at all, pet.” She moved her hand and combed through his hair. “How do ya feel?” 

“Exhausted,” he answered with a small laugh. Exhausted from crying? How pathetic could one person be? If someone asked him why he cried, he wouldn’t even know how to answer. There wasn’t one specific thought that had made him cry, no particular sadness in itself. He didn’t understand. And now Sarah would be aware of how pathetic Tony was. She’d probably treat him differently. Had she told Steve? Why was he even there? Tony sighed heavily and closed his eyes again. He wished he could disappear so he wouldn’t have to look at Sarah or Steve again. Why did he have to cry? 

“Are ya hungry?” Sarah asked, still petting Tony’s hair. Even though he didn’t answer she gently made him sit up. “Let’s get some food into you. And a nice cuppa coffee.”

“We made you a cake,” Benni said and got up with them.

“Usually you don’t announce that you have a surprise for someone,” Sarah said with a smile. “Well, let’s get you to your surprise.”

On the way to the kitchen, he could already smell apple and cinnamon which only intensified the closer they got. 

“It’s Irish apple pie,” Benni said and pulled his brother closer to the plate. The cake was still warm. “Steve and I made it,” he added and Tony leaned down to place a kiss on top of his head. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. It felt like a gift that was given out of pity because he was so weak, because he had cried like a child. 

After they finished their cake, Sarah and Benni headed out to do some grocery shopping for a ‘special dinner’, as she had called it. She shooed Benni upstairs, chasing him with threats of tickles, to get dressed and not long after they headed out, leaving Steve and Tony in the kitchen. 

Steve started doing the washing up and without being asked, Tony came to help. A part of him was appreciative of how easily Tony and Benni helped out. Another part of him was disgusted by how they just wordlessly went to work, assuming it was their job. 

He handed Tony the plates to dry and Tony then put them away, seeming to know where everything went by now. After five minutes and seven dishes, Steve spoke. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Tony focused on an invisible spot on the plate he was drying while thinking about an answer. No, he didn’t want to. “And be even more pathetic?” He shook his head and finally put the plate down. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Why should something that happens to everyone make you pathetic?” Steve asked, his voice casual despite being ever so slightly offended at the idea. He didn’t look at Tony, just kept handing him dishes to dry. 

Tony blew air out of his nose, a small laugh, shaking his head. “This happens to everyone? Breaking down from being hugged?”

Steve shrugged. “Happened to me. Happened to James. Happened to a lot of my men when we came back from fighting.” And then he corrected himself, “ _Happens_ to me.” He knew it still happened to James too but that also wasn’t totally his business to share. “You’ve got a lot going on. A lot to manage. It’s not easy.” 

Tony stopped drying the glass and turned to look at Steve, who simply continued to wash the dishes. “Well… You guys were in the war. That’s different,” he said, shaking his head again. 

“James wasn’t,” he said plainly. “He never fought.” He handed Tony a mug. “Happened to me way before I enlisted. Just got worse when I came back.” 

From that simple statement Tony had more questions than answers. None that he would ask now but things he would like to know, if Steve wanted to share the information with him. “I don’t understand,” Tony said. He didn’t understand why any of this happened. Why Steve knew what was going on. Why a hug made him cry. Why Sarah was so relaxed about it all. Men didn’t cry. Especially not Stark men. Though… Tony wasn’t a real Stark, was he?

Steve thought for a moment, grabbing more soap. He was trying to decide which portion to tackle first—the need for tactile affection in life or the more recent trauma. He decided to go in that order. “When was the last time you got a hug like that?” He asked, his voice quiet, his tone very neutral. 

“That I got and not one I gave?” Tony asked to which Steve nodded. “I don’t know. Two, maybe three years? Why?”

“I’m no doctor,” he began, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that people need affection and hugs and to be the recipient of these things. Not just the giver. Does something funny to us when we go too long without it, no matter how old we may be.” He turned on the faucet to let more water into the sink. “James doesn’t have any family. At least not blood. Ma and I are his family. He’s a grown man. Head of the Russian mob, known for all kinds of horrors...” he trailed off for a moment, letting the words sink in, and then he turned his head to look at Tony just briefly while he spoke his next words, “...and he still needs that affection. Sometimes from me. Sometimes from ma. Likely why she visited him this morning.” Which was partially true even if Steve didn’t know it. “James is thirty. You’re eighteen. How much more so you need it and there’s nothing to be ashamed of for needing a basic human requirement.” 

Basic human requirement. Tony looked down at the towel in his hands. Basic. Essential. Normal. Human. What he was. What everyone around him was. Requirement. A thing that is needed or wanted. A necessary condition. Tony furrowed his brows, deep in thought as he went through those words again. James needed it. Steve needed it. Sarah knew that. Men who were older and stronger than him. Who had seen more, done more. 

Steve continued talking after it seemed Tony had processed most of what was said. He didn’t argue and he didn’t look like he was refusing the idea so Steve took it as a win. He sighed and spoke, handing Tony the forks, “As for the other thing—the stress, paranoia, the restlessness, the gnawing in the pit of your stomach. The vivid memories? Well, when that first started happening to us, James and I thought we were going mad. It wasn’t until after the war that I realized it had a name: shellshock. But I’m still waiting for them to change that. To realize more than war can affect a person like this.” He looked over at Tony again.

For a second time that day Tony’s eyes filled with tears. There was someone else. No, there were at least two other people who were going through the same things? He wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t going mad. He wasn’t weak? The last one was probably the biggest surprise for Tony. Because if Steve and James weren’t weak for feeling those things and experiencing them, why would Tony be? He, who had not been through nearly as much as them. 

Tony’s voice was low when he finally managed to find words again. “Does it ever stop?”

Steve thought about it for a while. Thought about the times during the drinks every so often when he and James would talk about it. “So far,” he began, slowly, “it hasn’t gone away. But again, I’ve had a bit more exposure than you. But it gets… easier? Well, you learn to manage it. To live with it most days rather than in fear of it.” He didn’t want Tony to know what this felt like. That’s why he never wanted to send him on out of office work. When he’d told him about Howard and where they were keeping him, when he’d explained the reason why he was still alive, Steve had hoped against hope that Tony would tell him to take care of it. Tell him he never wanted to see Howard again and Steve would’ve gone and done the job before he could change his mind. He didn’t want Tony to know what this felt like but Steve and James were never getting their innocence back, it didn’t matter. “I had hoped you’d say you didn’t want to do it.” 

“How do you learn to manage it?” Tony asked, needing a lot more information. Or rather yet, a solution. Something he could do immediately. Get it over and done with. Tony turned to Steve to look at him and shook his head. “ _That_ I don’t regret.” He didn’t. “I just keep thinking... none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been born. Maybe my mother would have lived a good life then, Nella wouldn’t have died, Benni could grow up with his parents? A lot of people would have been spared a great deal of sadness and hurt if I had never been born.” 

“Don’t isolate yourself. You don’t have to go out and talk to people, but especially when it starts creepin’ up on ya, come find me. Or ma. Or even James if he’s around. He’ll talk to ya,” he said, wishing there was more. He wished there were a medication or a surefire cure but as of yet, a good support system was the best solution he had. “And rest. Not too much sleep, but a good night’s rest.” 

Steve was shaking his head while Tony spoke about things being better without him. There was no way in hell he’d ever agree with that. “You can’t be sure of it and you can’t blame yourself for your father’s mistakes. He was never going to be a good man regardless of whether or not you’d been born. How could any good man ever become what he was?” Steve rubbed his temple, calming himself. “Those same people you think would have been spared sadness would have also been robbed of joy. The joy you bring to people, Tony. I never met your ma or your sister, but I’ve seen the way Benni lights up when you enter a room. The way he talks about you. I wasn’t even sure he knew anything else existed when you were in the hospital.” He chuckled at the memory of Benni talking his ear off about Tony. “And if you won’t let me use them as a defense, allow me to be selfish and say, I’d be a helluva lot sadder without you.” It was too honest and he felt his breathing catch so he turned away. He needed Tony to understand though. Understand that he was good to and for people.

The way Steve explained these things to him made it easier to understand and accept them. Nothing he said was an instant solution for anything, of that he was well aware. However, it was also more than Tony had before —people he could talk to, who would listen because they knew what he was going through and who also knew what he needed.

Even when Steve turned away, Tony continued to look at him. There was even more to take in. Tony brought joy to people? He knew Benni loved him, but for the longest time he had assumed that wouldn’t always be the case. Especially not if he got to a better environment than what they were used to. And even though they had a new home and new people around them, Benni still loved him, would continue to do so. And even more than that Steve would have been sadder without Tony. There was that fluttering in his heart again, the warmth that spread throughout his whole body and felt better than a hug.

“Thank you,” Tony said, now looking away again. He didn’t know what else to say, how to describe what he was feeling, what Steve’s words did to him. How his words shifted something inside of him.

“You’re more than welcome,” he told him, drying out the empty sink now. They were done washing up. Steve took the teatowel from Tony and hung them on their hooks to dry and stayed there for a moment, debating. He walked over to Tony with determination, acting while the impulse overpowered his rationality. He pulled him into a hug and stayed there for a moment. Longer than the last time he’d impulsively hugged him—tighter too, even letting his head drop onto Tony’s for a brief moment. He hadn’t noticed that their height difference was so profound until now. “We’re all happier with you around,” he told him again. _I’m happier_. 

A small sound of surprise came from Tony when he was pulled into the sudden hug. He wanted to take a step back —an ugly force of habit— but instead he leaned into the hug, wrapping his arms around Steve as well. It was the first time he hugged someone that much taller. He could probably rest against Steve with all his weight and he wouldn’t be bothered. He would probably just continue to hold him.

Steve didn’t want to pull away but eventually he did. Slowly though, slow enough that he could stop first and hold Tony by his arms and look down at him with a soft smile. 

“This is your home,” he told him again, “but if I ever do run out of ways to keep you around, you don’t owe me _anything_. If you stick around, I want it to be because you want to, okay?”

Feeling warm and all things positive from what Steve said, Tony smiled back at him until he heard him say those words. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to stick around?” He asked, confused. “I love it here.” It was the best thing that ever happened to him and as long as Steve wanted him around, Tony would stay with his brother. 

Steve warmed at the words, grinning and ducking his head. He was so happy he didn’t know what to do. When he finally looked up, he could barely contain his smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.” _I don’t want you anywhere else_. 

Just then Sarah and Benni came in and they had help carrying the groceries. James was behind them with two paper bags of groceries in his arms. 

“We’re back!” Benni announced, “and lookit, we brought Jimmy.” 

“Please don’t let that name catch on,” he groaned and Steve laughed, going over to give him a hug. James pulled him into a tight, crushing bear hug. 

“Wow, good to see you too,” Steve said, still laughing as he pulled away, putting a hand on James’ shoulder. James looked around Steve to see Tony, to whom he waved. Tony looked a lot better already, which he wasn’t expecting but was nonetheless happy for it.

“Welcome home,” Tony greeted his brother and helped Sarah unpack everything. “Anything I can help with?” He didn’t know what to say to James. Steve told him things about him and Tony didn’t even know if he should know. He probably wanted to talk to his best friend anyway. 

“If you’re feeling up to it, you can start washing those potatoes for me,” she told him. “Steve and James, you two can set the table. Benni, can you read me the recipes?” Sarah was firing out orders like a drill sergeant. Definitely the nicest drill sergeant ever but still. 

“Yes, ma’am,” James and Steve said at the same time. James disappeared to remove his jacket, tie and waistcoat, coming back in a light grey shirt that made his eyes even more intense. He moved to help Steve set the table.

Tony did as he was told, smiling at the authority that Sarah had over the two men. Tony kept looking back at Steve but also couldn’t help but notice how good James looked. He hardly seemed to fit in with them all but Steve’s words were still fresh in his mind and made him smile. Together with Sarah he prepared the chicken, peeled potatoes and chopped vegetables all according to the recipe, which Sarah surely didn’t need but made Benni feel included. 

“Now we give it an hour in the oven. Would you like an aperitif? I’ll pour the boys and me some.” Tony chuckled when she called them boys and she smiled at him. "That's better, hm?" She pinched his cheek and made Tony smile even wider. 

“I can try, I guess.” He nodded and watched her pour Sherry into small glasses and carry them into the living room. 

They went to the living room and spread out in the various seats. Sarah took one couch and Benni curled up next to her with his juice. Steve plopped down next to James and smacked his leg. 

“Don’t remember inviting your kind here,” Steve teased and James scoffed, sipping the drink Sarah poured him. 

He narrowed his eyes at Steve and said, “I like your suit. When did you buy it? The American civil war?” Steve snorted, patting the spot beside him for Tony to sit if he wanted. James’ jaw tightened but only for a second. Long enough for Sarah to catch it however and for her heart to continue to ache. 

Dinner was ready not long after, the conversations and bickering making the time fly by. James and Steve fought the entire way into the kitchen. Steve kept finding reasons to bump into Tony however or brush their arms together, anything. 

They took their usual seats, said grace and began to eat. It was delicious and exactly what was needed in February. Steve had his usual ‘more than the average human’ helpings and James and Sarah teased him for it the entire time, although James ate just as much as Steve. 

By the time dessert rolled around, they were all sitting around the table with half-finished apple pie slices from earlier chatting. 

“You threw up on _me_ , Rogers,” James argued, tossing his wadded up serviette at Steve. Steve laughed. 

“Yeah, but you made me ride the cyclone and you knew I didn’t want to. Plus I’d just eaten about four hot dogs. That was bad judgment on your part.” 

“You could’ve at least aimed your big head away from my lap.” 

Benni was chuckling, enjoying this and then he asked, “Have you guys been friends forever?” Steve laughed, wondering what constituted ‘forever’ for Benni. 

“A long time for sure.” 

“I was eight when I met this annoying man,” James said. 

“Pet, why don’t you bring down the photo album? Show the boys?” Sarah suggested, Benni leaning against her—she’d pulled his chair closer—while she played with his hair. 

Steve stood and darted off to his room to find it. 

James pushed his chair back to follow. “Let me make sure he doesn’t leave out the ones where he looks terrible,” he said with a laugh, following after Steve. 

He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing and palms sweating. James couldn’t remember ever having been this nervous in his entire life but he knew a lot was at stake here. He pushed Steve’s door open to see him stood at the shelves where he kept his pictures and books, searching for the photo album in question. Steve turned briefly. 

“Hey,” he said, going back to looking. “Need something?” 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, barely there. Steve turned, confused and slightly worried. James ran his fingers through his hair and with a few long strides he quickly closed the space between them. “James?” 

He grabbed Steve by his waistcoat and moved him over away from the shelves and up against the flat wall, his hands still firmly gripping him. Steve was so confused, mistaking this for aggression, the worry in his face. 

“What’s—”

James gave him a small, sad smile before he crushed his lips in a kiss. Steve was tense and then he melted into it, so familiar, so passionate, so much of what he sorely wanted. James stuck a leg between his and spread Steve’s so he could press himself even closer, his hands moving. One moved up to cradle Steve’s head and the other around and down his back to rest just above his trousers. 

Steve’s hands moved without his knowledge, muscle memory, to hold James, both on the broad expanse of his back, and he moved into the kiss, letting James’ tongue in without protest, his eyes closed. The kissing was loud and needy, both of their chests heaving. There wasn’t much rational thought in Steve’s mind right that moment, too taken by surprise to process and remember why he didn’t want this. 

Sarah and Tony had cleared the table to an extent when she looked over her shoulder again. 

“How those two get anything done is beyond me. _A ghrá,_ why don’t ya go fetch ‘em.”

“Sure.” He nodded and cleaned his dirty hands before heading upstairs, taking his time. His whole day had been rather exhausting despite all the sleep he got. On top of that he felt uncomfortable going after them. Who knew if they had something they needed to talk about or things to sort out? 

The door was halfway closed and, not seeing a reason to do so, Tony didn’t knock before pushing it open slowly. What he saw made him freeze. Steve was against a wall, James in front of him and they were kissing. Intensely kissing. Passionately even. 

Tony had no idea! Was that why they worked together? Why they spent so much time together? Even though he wanted to, he couldn’t find it in him to turn away. It took him a lot of convincing himself to pull the door closed again and to disappear as quietly as possible. His heart was racing, his hands trembling. 

James and Steve? 

Tony considered going back downstairs but Sarah would notice that something was up. He needed to sort his thoughts before he could go back to them. He headed for his bathroom and locked the door behind him.

It took him a minute to calm his breathing. What James and Steve did was none of his business. Sarah probably knew, she must know. She knew everything. It wasn’t his place to judge or say anything. Not that he would. How had he not seen it before? Granted, there had been a lot of things going on and he didn’t see James around a lot. 

Once he made sure that he could maintain a straight face again, he went back to the kitchen. Sarah had her hands on her sides and scoffed. 

“What is it?”

“They were talking. Didn’t want to eavesdrop,” Tony said simply and it seemed to be enough for Sarah.

Moments after Tony had seen and left, unbeknownst to the both of them, Steve pulled away, finally getting his thoughts together. James moved forward to keep kissing him but Steve pulled away entirely.

“James… _what_ ,” Steve asked, breathless. He moved away from him to sit on the bed and James sighed and joined him. Steve didn’t protest how closely he sat to him. It was normal. Or was it? 

James dragged another hand down his face and laughed sadly. “I love you, Steve. I always have.” Steve felt faint. 

“ _What_?” He asked again, this time with more emotion. When? Always? How long was always? Why had he never… wait. “S-Since when? How long?” 

“Always, dumbass. Always means always.” He ducked his head, unable to look at Steve’s face any longer. He knew enough about his face to know exactly what he saw there. “Since we were teenagers. I just… you didn’t—“

“I did,” he said before James could finish. “I did. I loved you something awful. And then you broke it off. You broke it off and I put on a brave face while you dated all those other birds and I made myself get over you. Why-why.” He stopped to calm himself. “Why did you do it?” 

James’ mouth sat open and his mouth trembled like he might cry but he fought it back. “I didn’t know. And I didn’t want you with me because you felt I was your only choice.” 

“You _were_ my only choice. I chose you. I wanted you.” 

James smiled again, just as sad. “All past tense.” Steve looked down, trying to take his hand, surprised when James let him. 

“I still love you but not like that.” 

James hummed. “Tony?” 

Steve nodded. “James, I’m in love with him.” 

“He may never love you back that way.” 

“I know. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He squeezed James’ hand. “What about you?” 

He shrugged casually, too casually. “I’ll get over it. I have to. I’d rather have you in my life than not.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” James said, reaching up to hold his face. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You can’t help who you love, Steve. Do I wish it were me? Yes, but I had a feeling you loved him. I just figured better I get it out then keep it in forever. I can move on. Slowly,” he said, echoing Sarah’s words. He wouldn’t drag her into this. Nothing that happened was her fault. In fact, it did feel good to finally say it even if his heart hurt at knowing once and for all that the love was unrequited. 

He sighed deeply and leaned in to kiss Steve who let him. He pulled back and patted his leg. “I’m going to go.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I need some time to myself.” 

“Not too much, please.” James nodded. 

“Not to worry. I’ll be back here with my family soon. I just need to… process. Distance myself some.” Steve nodded. He knew it was selfish of him to ask James to stick around or return soon. He needed time to get over Steve just like Steve had taken time to get over James. It was part of why he had enlisted. Get as far away from him as he could so it was only fair he allow James his time. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “As much time as you need.” James gave him a smile and left. 

He went down the stairs, straightening himself up as he did. He grabbed his things from the living room and waved goodbye to the three still in the kitchen without a word. Sarah dropped everything and went after him. 

“James, love—“ 

“It’s okay,” he told her, turning and taking her hands. “I told him. It’s like I expected but at least now he knows. Thank you.” He kissed both her cheeks and told her he would see her later. 

She pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you, love.” 

“I love you too,” he said and left. 

Steve came into the kitchen a few minutes later looking devastated. He stood there, staring towards the stairs that headed down to the basement. His eyes red around the blue. Sarah came back up stairs then and caught sight of her son stood there, tears in his eyes, not knowing what to say. 

“Ma…” 

“Oh, love” she said, moving to hug him. 

When Steve got to the kitchen, Tony knew instantly he shouldn’t be there. Steve needed his mother. Did something happen? Did they fight? It didn’t look like a fight. But James disappeared and Steve looked heartbroken. It was none of his business. And so he turned to his brother.

“ _Hey, Benni. Let’s play the quiet game. Whoever makes it up to your room as silent as possible wins,”_ he whispered in Italian and Benni grinned at him. It was a game Tony had made up to keep Benni quiet when Howard was passed out and shouldn’t be woken. At least it served another purpose now. 

Upstairs Tony and Benni went through the usual evening routine and Tony read him not one but two chapters in his book. It wasn’t intentional at all but it felt good to read what was written and not let his mind wander.

Once he kissed his brother good night, tucked him in and turned off the lights, he left the room through the door leading to his but he didn’t want to leave Sarah with all the cleaning up either. 

Just when he opened the door to go downstairs and do the chores for her, Steve came up the stairs together with Sarah. He looked more miserable than before and still managed to give Tony a quiet “Good night.” Again he reminded himself that it wasn’t his place to ask what might have happened. There was nothing he could do for him. 

Downstairs he did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. It was familiar work and for once he enjoyed doing it. He was adjusting the table cloth when Sarah came back to the kitchen. 

“I made you a cup of tea.” Tony pointed to the cup sitting on the counter. 

“Thank you, _a ghrá,_ ” she told him, taking it and sipping slowly. She eyed him while he worked and then said, now knowing exactly what had taken place, “I take it they weren’t actually talking when you looked in.” She kept her voice soft. She didn’t want Tony to feel like he was being interrogated or put on the spot.

Tony leaned against the counter and shook his head. After a moment of silence he added, “It’s none of my business, so I chose not to say anything.” He couldn’t look at her, scared he might have overstayed his welcome, crossed some lines. It would be only fair, given everything he knew. 

She nodded. She didn’t want him to feel interrogated but that was exactly what she was doing. She had grown to love Tony and Benni but first and foremost as always, she protected her Steve. “And how do you feel about what you saw, laddie?” Still a soft voice, as if she was simply curious. 

Tony knew what she was asking and why but it still made him wonder about a lot of things. Their lives were risky enough as it was. Add that to the mix and it would get even riskier. He wondered how many of their men knew. Did they care? 

“There must be a good reason why they’re risking it all, right? If they’re willing to take that risk nothing else matters,” he said with a shrug. “It doesn’t change anything for me. Steve’s still Steve and James is James.”

Again she nodded, processing, looking for holes in his words. Anything to alert her that he might just be saying this. She trusted Tony, but her fear for her boys outweighed that trust right now. “Tony, don’t take this any way other than a mother trying to protect her child, but are you sure?” She had to know.

“I don’t see how it matters who you’re with, as long as everyone is happy,” he said more openly. “I’m just sorry they had to sneak around because of Benni and me.” He wanted Steve safe and sound as much as Sarah, that was for sure. “Since Steve never said anything I’m not going to ask him either. They shouldn’t be taking any risks though. So if they need time alone, just tell me and we’ll be out of their hair for as long as they need.”

“Oh, pet, thank you,” she told him, relieved beyond belief. Oh she felt like she could breathe again after holding her breath the last few hours. She stood and hugged him. Both because she wanted to and because he was due for another hug. She kissed his hair and then pulled back, her face going sad again. “But they’re not together. They were when they were your age but… not now. What you saw tonight, that… that was something else.” 

She reached up to move his hair away from his forehead and spoke even softer than before, if that was even possible. “When you see him next, ‘cause I reckon he’ll be a wee bit scarce the next few days, talk to him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken up before, _aintín_.” Tony smiled and hugged her back. It was still something he would need to get used to but there were worse things he had gotten used to over the years. “I will,” he promised sincerely and hugged her again. “ _Mama_ would have loved you.” 

She exhaled. “I just worry. Neither of those boys make reading what’s going on with them particularly easy but thank you.” She smiled at his last statement. “Anyone who held such a special place in your heart must’ve been a lovely lady. I’m sure I’d have loved her as well.” 

They talked a bit longer about this and that, staying away from the topics of Steve and James for the moment and when it got later, they headed upstairs together. Sarah wished Tony goodnight and went to check on Steve, trying to open the door but it was locked. She didn’t knock. She knew that meant he didn’t want any company and she’d respect that. For now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is gone. Steve plays the piano. Tony hears the music. Even mob bosses need hugs. Pepper teaches Tony some life truths.

The next morning at breakfast Sarah let Tony know that Steve had given Falsworth some work for him to do at the office if he wanted. She explained that Steve had left early that morning around five and wouldn’t be at the office today. 

The next day was the same. Steve left at an ungodly hour and returned at one, seeing no one but his mother and sometimes just leaving her a note. 

This went on for four days before any of them saw him again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he just didn’t want to talk about it. About how he was feeling or what he was thinking or how much he missed James already. It wasn’t because four days had passed without his presence but because he knew these four days were only the beginning. There was a good chance he wouldn’t see James again for weeks. Months maybe. 

On the fourth day, Sarah and Benni saw Steve leave. He was grabbing a muffin from the kitchen that she and Benni had made as he headed out and they made it in just in time to say goodbye to him. That was it. 

On the fifth day, Dugan asked Steve when he and James would be meeting for their drink and Steve said it was indefinitely postponed. Dugan contacted Dmitri but he didn’t pick up. Instead someone else he didn’t recognize did, though it was the phone in Dmitri’s office. 

“ _Da_?” 

“This is Dugan, where’s Dmirtri?” The man apparently knew who he was and answered him immediately. 

“In Russia.” 

“Is Winter with him? My boss wants to know.” He didn’t—well he didn’t specifically ask Dugan to find this out—but that usually did the trick when he needed information. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you know when they’ll be back? And why?” 

“They did not specify either.” Dugan hummed. 

“Alright.” He hung up and an hour later, he relayed the information to Steve. 

“How long?” Steve knew the why. He’d gone to Germany to get away from James. James went to Russia to get away from him. 

Dugan shook his head. “His lackey didn’t know, Cap.” He looked at Steve and then sat in the chair across from his desk. “I know I’m not your first choice but, uh, wanna talk about it?” 

Steve shook his head. “No, but thank you, Dugan. Where’s Tony?” Dugan checked his watch. 

“Should still be having lunch with Jones and Falsworth.” They’d taken Tony out with them seeing as Steve wanted him to be able to be productive without getting caught up in Steve’s bad mood. 

It was going on day—or rather night—eight before Steve was spotted longer than a few minutes or just in passing. Everyone was asleep, or so he thought. He’d come home around 3am. He didn’t even have any work to do. He just sat in his office as he did most nights. He told Dugan to go home around ten and after that he just sat with his thoughts. 

He hoped James would come back. There was a part of him that wished he didn’t love Tony. A part of him that wished he could’ve given his friend what he wanted, could’ve been what he wanted. There was a small part of him that still remembered what it felt like to be in love with James. 

But there was a bigger part of him that knew his feelings were clear and that he was in love with Tony. Had been for a while. And while that part knew for a certainty how Steve felt, it made his chest ache to think that Tony may never return his feelings, may never even know he had them. 

And then it just became a vicious cycle eating him up because with that, he understood how James felt though he was sure that James hurt even worse. He had suppressed it longer and been tempted more. He had watched Steve be with many others and fall in love with someone else. And it all just made Steve sick. Why couldn’t he be everything that everyone needed him to be all the time? Why did he have to hurt the people for whom he cared most? 

He sat at the piano and lifted the cover, cracking his knuckles. It had been ages since he played and James who had taught him since he had received private lessons of his own. He didn’t have any sheet music in front of him. He just played the last thing he remembered, a Beethoven piece: Sonata No. 14 “Moonlight” in C-Sharp Minor. 

His fingers found the keys without having to search and though he was a little staccato to start, he slowly found his rhythm, shut his eyes, and played. He was so focused he never heard the door to the study open. 

Just as Sarah had predicted, Steve was rarely ever to be seen and Tony let him be. Imagining himself being in a situation like his, he most likely wouldn’t want to talk to anyone either. He went about business and got to know the men Steve was closest with. They shared some stories about him which made Tony wonder about the person he used to be and who he was now apart from what he already knew. 

Not seeing Steve on a daily basis was probably the weirdest thing now in his new life for Tony. Especially since their talk about the things Steve knew and understood. James was nowhere to be seen either and Sarah had more than enough on her own plate. So Tony did what he could do best: Focus on Benni and shove his own feelings aside to deal with any other time that wasn’t right then. Benni was very sad that he didn’t get to spend time with Steve even though Sarah and Tony tried to make up for it. 

While Tony missed Steve as well, he simply continued to live his new life, try to make things as easy for Steve as he could. Even if Tony couldn’t sleep and was losing his appetite again. Not wanting to give Sarah another reason to worry, he went on as before but keeping more to himself. The worst times were the nights when he was alone and unable to sleep. 

One night it was especially bad. So bad, he decided to walk around in the darkness, hoping that would make it easier for him to find rest again. It was then that he heard the piano. At first he thought that this was it. He was finally going mad, hearing things that weren’t there, but the music continued steadily. Tony followed it to its source and was surprised to find himself in front of the study. Gently he opened the door and closed it right behind him, not wanting to wake Benni or Sarah. He rested against the door with his back and listened to the music. 

The piece that Steve was playing was emotional and heavy. It felt sad but also as if there was no rest, no peace even though there was beauty. It reminded Tony of countless waking nights when he felt the same, especially towards the end when he didn’t know how many more days he could make it with what little money and energy he had left. The accepting of his own situation—that he would soon be dead one way or another—the deep rooted sadness over a life he could have had, missed opportunities, longings he couldn’t give in to. When he closed his eyes he could watch his most miserable times in his life pass right before him one more time without it hurting. The music put all his hurt into a form that was able to be heard but only understood if you knew it was there. 

Tony wondered just how much of this Steve felt himself. What was his reason for playing this piece? He listened for as long as it continued, enjoying the soothing tones and the moderate tempo but also the sincerity.

Once he stopped playing, Tony moved closer to Steve—not trying to be silent because he knew from his own experience how much he hated it when people did that—and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Something about the way he had played made it obvious how torn and sad he was. A feeling which Tony could empathize with but none with which he wished for Steve to be familiar.

“Whatever it is that you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone, you know.” Tony said, his voice deep and low but sincere. 

When Steve’s fingers had pulled away from the keys, he stared at them blankly, feeling empty and helpless and then there were arms around him and he was so deep in his own mind he hadn’t heard anyone approach and he tensed, realizing he had nothing to defend himself with but also accepting that fact. And then he recognized the scent of the person holding him and he relaxed but only a little. 

And then he spoke and Steve didn’t know what to do. Steve knew Tony was aware of at least the physical aspect of what had happened that evening between himself and James. Sarah had told him it didn’t bother him but a part of Steve still wondered if Tony wasn’t at least a little bit disgusted. 

Steve dropped his head but never raised his arms to touch Tony. They stayed on his legs because he would not take advantage of Tony trying to comfort him. 

“Did I wake you?” Steve finally asked after a long silence and much mental debate over what to do.

Tony stayed like that, wanting Steve to release at least some of the tension he was holding. And for selfish reasons because he missed hugging him. That one, of course, didn’t matter at all. Well, maybe not as much as the first one. 

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “Can’t sleep?”

Steve thought for a second about the last night he’d slept more than three hours and simply shook his head. He was exhausted in mind and body but he couldn’t sleep. When he tried, the guilt threatened to eat him alive. Every time he closed his eyes he saw James’ face saying ‘all past tense.’ It had been soul crushingly sad. Steve closed his eyes, flinching at the strong emotion. 

Tony almost sighed when Steve flinched and tensed even more. That was the opposite of what he wanted to achieve. 

“Come on, let’s move to the couch,” he said softly, pulling away but resting his hands on his shoulders. 

He considered arguing but figured there was no point in it other than to be an ass so he stood and went with Tony to the couch, still as tense. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Tony’s eyes, afraid he would see whatever James saw in his. He just wanted a little happiness. 

Steve finally realized that Tony wasn’t woken up by the music so it must’ve been something else. “Nightmares?” Steve asked him, desperately trying to take the focus off himself. 

Tony was facing Steve, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. Talking about anything but himself? Yes, Tony was familiar with that. 

“Told you I’m not used to this much sleep,” he said with a small smile. “And Benni and I finished another book last night. I didn’t expect the ending. Guess I couldn’t handle it after all.” It was the best he could come up with at this time of night. It was surely better than silence or forcing him to say what was going on with him. 

“Hmm,” Steve said. He knew he was lying. At least partially, but he also knew if he spoke more right now there was a chance everything would come rushing out at once. 

He chewed his lip so long it bled a little, thinking, and then he turned to Tony, eyes on him for the first time that night. First time in a long while, actually. “Don’t you think I’m disgusting? An abomination?” 

Tony did not see that coming. He was so startled by Steve’s words he didn’t even know what to think, let alone how to react. 

“Because of what? Your feelings?” He asked and reached out to place his hand on top of Steve’s. “I don’t think you’re disgusting.” He bit back another sigh. “You’re still Steve, aren’t you?” 

Steve’s eyes dropped to Tony’s hand on top of his and then back to Tony’s eyes, trying to read them, figure out if it was the truth. Tony wasn’t someone who went around hurting people—oh no, that was Steve’s job, he thought bitterly— so why wouldn’t it be the truth? 

“Not many people would have said that,” he told him quietly. “Dugan’s the only person outside my immediate family who knows. Well, and Dmitri.” He could feel himself starting to say more than he should and bit back on his words. “Even Dugan wasn’t… a fan in the beginning. Think he felt he owed me his loyalty more than anything else.” 

He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling, letting out a shaky exhale. “It’s… wonderful but at the same time incredibly hard to believe that you just… accept me as I am.” 

“I think it’s safe to say that I’m unlike most people you’ve met, so that part shouldn’t be too surprising,” Tony joked lightly, not liking how sad Steve looked. “What good would it do if I tried to change you?” Tony asked. “You must know about Pepper’s older brother? The one no one talks about anymore. He was my classmate when I was still going to school before my sister died.” When everything had been okay. “My mom was actually the one to help him get out of here before his family could... whatever it was they wanted to do to him. He even stayed with us for a night when Howard wasn’t there. I asked her why and she said because it’s no one’s business what anyone feels and because love is always worth fighting for. She said ‘so whatever you feel, whatever you want, as long as everyone involved is happy, nothing else matters.’” Lately he found it much easier to think and talk about his mother. Maybe it was because Sarah reminded him of her sometimes, or maybe it was just the distance he was gaining from Howard. “My mom was romantic like that.” 

Steve had heard about the boy but he didn’t realize he was related to Pepper. He’d seen how some of his own men had reacted to hearing about him, seeing as the family was Irish. Dugan had advised that perhaps Steve not do anything risky for a while and he had listened. 

“I always wondered what happened to him. The family claimed he’d died,” Steve said. “Real nice of your ma. She sounds lovely.” 

And then it became a little easier to talk and to breathe. Just a little. Not a lot. 

“He and I—we’re—before.” He stopped. He hated it when he rambled and stammered, a habit he’d mostly grown out of. He closed his eyes and took a breath, in and out, deeply. “James and I aren’t together. Haven’t been for years.” That was the most he could say at the moment, his eyes dropping again to his lap, hands balling into fists. 

Tony placed his hand on Steve’s hands that were now fists. “Look at me,” Tony said and waited for Steve to do so. “You were friends first. I’m sure you’ll work it out.” It was all he wanted to say to that. It was none of his business and he had no intention of getting involved or take anyone’s side. Both men had done too much for him and he couldn’t handle that. 

“Maybe,” he said, the word coming out like it hurt. “I mean…” He swallowed hard, his throat dry and eyes wet. “He’s the last person I’ve ever wanted to hurt but I _did_. I couldn’t be what he needed—I can’t—” A tear fell down his cheek and he snatched his hand to wipe it away angrily. He was not about to sit there and cry in front of Tony. That little bit of dignity was all he had left. So he stayed silent, staring at the wall behind Tony’s head and chewing his bottom lip again. “There was a time when I was in love with him too but I never imagined he could feel the same about me so I got rid of it and now…” He didn’t finish his thought because to do so would let Tony know how he felt about him, so he played it off as though he was just lost in thought. 

Tony took a deep breath, his hand back on Steve’s. There was nothing he could say or do. “I’m sorry,” he said. He _was_ sorry that Steve thought and felt that way. That Steve was going through what he was going through. His own mother or maybe Sarah would have been a lot more helpful but Steve just so happened to have ended up with the least helpful person ever. He looked down at their hands, not knowing what to say.

“You’re the last person who should be saying you’re sorry,” he told him, looking down at their hands now too. Steve laughed. “That’s pretty much what _he_ told _me_ when I apologized.” _So why can’t I believe it_? 

Steve moved closer to Tony, until their knees bumped one another’s. He looked up at him, his hands still covered by Tony’s. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a sad smile. “Remember what I said about everyone needing hugs?”

“I feel sorry that you’re going through this and that there’s nothing I can do,” Tony clarified while looking back at Steve. “Of course. Do you want a hug?” He asked with a small smile. 

“You’re helping,” he reassured him. Steve nodded miserably. 

Tony pulled Steve into his arms and laid back on the couch. Once they were settled he gently rubbed his hand across Steve’s back soothingly, just as he did when Benni climbed into bed with him after having a nightmare. Only that Steve's weight was completely different. And so was his scent, the feeling of him on top of Tony, simply everything about the situation. And yet it felt strangely familiar. As if they had been here time and time again. That was what he appreciated about Steve the most. Nothing felt as if it was out of place. 

Steve laid there for a minute or two. Almost five, he’d say. It was so comfortable. Tony was the right amount of warm. He’d put on some weight in the last few months too so he was comfortable to lay on. He wondered if he was too heavy on him? And then Tony moved slightly and that wonderful Tony-brand scent wafted his way and he found himself caring less. 

And then five minutes was up, Steve’s peace was crumbling and he couldn’t keep his eyes shut, a different issue coming to the foreground and James went to the back for now. 

“I know you’re fine with who I love but… this isn’t uncomfortable for you?” He thought back to all the times he’d kept his distance or shortened the length of physical contact with Tony for fear of him feeling pressured to be what he wasn’t. Then he thought of the times he hadn’t cared and how terrible he’d felt afterwards.

“Steve,” Tony sighed softly. “I don’t see how one thing has to do with the other. I’m quite comfortable and as long as you are, just enjoy your… how did you put it? Basic human... something.” 

“Basic human requirement,” he supplied. 

“Yes, that,” Tony hummed. “Take your own advice.”

Steve snorted. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” He was smiling against Tony’s side and then he yawned. “Did you… the other night when I fell asleep on your bed… what were you saying about sleepy boys? Is that a story?” He was getting tired, and relaxing, and he owed it all to Tony. Just one more reason to love him, he supposed. 

The fact that Steve even remembered that and Tony had to think about what he could mean made him chuckle. That felt like it was ages ago. “No, it’s just something I worked out for Nella and Benni when they refused to sleep. Though with them it never took as long as with you.” As he spoke he lowered his voice and shifted to move his fingertips with feather light touches over the back of Steve’s neck. 

Steve’s body let out its last few places of tension at the touch, and Steve sighed. “That’s… that’s nice,” he said, having a hard time forming words. He was so tired and he wanted to sleep finally but what if there was more to remember about this night? About these rare nights where he could pretend Tony loved him back. “I’m glad it was you… who came in,” he said, falling silent for a few seconds in the middle of his sentence. 

“You could have also just woken me. Or pulled me aside any time of the day,” Tony said softly, completely judgement free just saying words. “You know exactly where I am and it was you who told me not to isolate myself.” He moved to run his fingers through Steve’s soft hair. “Give in, Steve. I know you’re not tired and you hate sleeping, but do it for me,” he whispered. 

“I’m exhausted,” he confessed, throwing an arm across Tony and then he laughed again, softer. “Me and my advice aren’t friends.” His eyes were shut and he wasn’t seeing what he had been the last few days. His arm instinctively wrapped around Tony as opposed to just laying across him and he snuggled up to him, sighing happily but he was ninety percent gone, not even realizing it. He mumbled something but it was barely enough to make it out. 

Steve Rogers was not someone who woke up with total mental clarity or with all his senses working at full capacity. He woke disoriented and mumbling. Usually his brain, running at only fifteen percent, would fill in the gaps in his understanding, supply the who, what, when, where and why, so it was no wonder that he did what he did when he woke up. 

He snuggled up closer to the person he was holding, tilting his head up to press a kiss to the jaw he found. 

He chuckled. “Good morning.” He cuddled closer, burying his head in the man’s side when the smell hit him. 

_Tony._

“Holy—” he said, leaping up off the couch, more than certain Tony was awake and at the very most finally disgusted and at the very least shocked. He moved away from the couch, panicking and stammering. “I—sorry, I didn’t realize where I was—I thought—sorry. Feckin’ hell,” he said, slapping his hands over his face and breathing into them. Couldn’t he just have a moment of peace? 

As soon as Steve snuggled closer, Tony woke up. He didn’t know when it was that he fell asleep but Steve’s comforting weight and warmth had a lot to do with it, of that he was sure. Before he could greet Steve or do anything else for that matter, he felt a kiss. From Steve? Not a kiss on his lips. Not a passionate kiss. Just a small one on his jaw. Which was so innocent and sweet he couldn’t believe it. 

Steve stood and Tony sat up, staring at him blankly, not sure what he was supposed to do. Obviously he didn’t mean to do it. Probably expected someone else, Tony thought. He wasn't a morning person so it took him extra time to process everything.

“No harm done,” he managed to say and nodded. 

Steve stopped immediately at Tony’s words and dropped his hands to stare at him. He collapsed back onto the couch, a hand falling casually onto Tony’s leg. He was looking at him in slight shock and definite awe. He shook his head. “You being so calm about this is going to take some getting used to and I don’t think I ever thanked you. I know, I know, ‘no need for thanks’ but nonetheless.” 

Steve turned to look at the clock. It was 8:45am. He wasn’t going to work today. He’d just decided and if Tony didn’t want to, he didn’t have to either. He told Tony this and waited for his response. 

Calm. No, Tony wasn’t calm. His heart was beating faster. Racing. His whole body felt warm, the fluttering was back.

“Sure,” he said in response and thought about his offer. He liked working but without Steve in the same room as him it did get lonely. “There’s some things I wanted to do. And I’m supposed to meet Pepper later.”

“Ah,” Steve said, disappointed but not showing it. “Sounds like a more productive day than mine. Maybe I’ll make up for lost time with ma and Benni.” He stood and stretched his arms high. He looked around for his clothes—so used to just taking them off wherever and falling asleep—that it took him a moment to realize he’d come into the study in his pajamas. He shook his head at his morning brain and told Tony he was heading for the kitchen.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to remind Steve that Benni would be at school until early in the afternoon. So he simply smiled and went to the kitchen with him, preparing coffee for them. Somehow he wasn’t in the mood for breakfast. The fluttering that usually only lasted a few moments didn’t want to stop or so it seemed, making it impossible to even consider eating anything. 

“Right,” Tony said out of the blue. “When is Sarah’s birthday?” He wanted to get her an Italian coffee machine with the best beans possible. Which also required money. Of which he had only so much from when Sarah gave him some when he was going out with Pepper or buying things with Benni on his own. Not that he needed money, considering he didn’t have any expenses. 

“June 10th,” Steve answered, slicing bread fresh from the bakery. He wasn’t sure when she’d brought it back but Sarah must’ve gone out and come back in. “Why?”

“I just don’t want to miss it,” he said and it was the truth. But there was no need to worry. “When is yours?” He asked after hesitating for a moment. 

“July 4th,” he answered. “When’s Benni’s? I know yours.”

“You know mine?” He asked in surprise, tilting his head to the side. “August 10th.”

“May 29th. You told me a while ago you’d be nineteen in May and then I got the rest off your medical records,” he said, grinning. 

“Rude,” Tony scoffed and sipped his coffee. “But I guess you know pretty much everything there is to know about me anyways.” People talked and it was his job to know things so Tony shouldn’t be surprised. 

“I know a lot,” he confirmed. “But mostly the boring stuff.” He took out a pan and some eggs. “You know, dates, obvious facts, the immediate history,” he said, referring to his previous home life. 

“There isn’t a whole lot more to me,” he said with a shrug. What was there to know about his life? “Do you ever forget how old you are?”

Steve laughed outright, dropping a shell in the pan and having to dig it out. “After ‘you need sleep’ and ‘you work too much’ that’s probably the third most common thing ma reminds me of.” And he did forget often. He and James both. They felt like older men, perhaps in their fifties when in reality there was a reason why Sarah called them her ‘boys’, though he doubted she’d ever stop that. 

“When you just said that I’m turning nineteen...” Tony looked somewhere in the hallway. “It doesn’t feel right.” So much had happened in his life. He was tired of everything, sometimes even tired of life. Though that had changed in the past couple of months. Still, he felt much older than nineteen.

Steve took the scrambled eggs out of the pan and put them into their plates. “Talk to me,” he said, handing Tony a plate while he brought over the toast and sat. 

Tony looked at his plate and furrowed his brows. He didn’t want to eat. “I _am_ talking to you,” Tony said, sitting down next to him.

“You know what I mean.” 

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony scoffed and pushed the scrambled eggs around his plate. He considered not going back to the topic from before, testing which of them was more stubborn but decided against it. “I feel much older.”

“You and me both,” Steve said, eating the food but not really tasting it. His mind had since moved on to other things. Well, moved _back_ rather. He definitely wasn’t making progress. He was back on missing James and wondering when he would be back whilst simultaneously wondering if Tony secretly knew how he felt. He tried to keep it where it belonged and cracked a joke instead, “We can go play with Benni’s action figures if you need to feel young again.”

“Are you asking for yourself? Because I won’t judge if you want to play with them. I saw how disappointed you were when Benni didn’t want to play with you the other night,” he said and ate a little just to look as if he was trying. 

Steve snorted. “You caught me red handed. I keep my own stash locked in my office drawer. It’s why everyone has to knock before entering,” he teased, still eating rhythmically, slightly unaware of his actions. “What’s your thing then? Baby dolls?” 

Tony scoffed and shook his head. “I see. And what happens to anyone who sees or knows?” He thought about his question for a second. “I always liked books. Mom used to read me a lot. We used to go to the library all the time.” 

“I tell ma they’ve been disrespecting me and stick ‘em in a room with her. That’s worse than anything I could do to ‘em.” He smiled, half of his mouth pulling up. He looked up at Tony. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the house but he would if Tony wanted to—oh wait, he already had plans with Pepper, he remembered, looking back down. “What are you and Pepper up to today?”

“That’s scary alright,” Tony nodded. “I wouldn’t want Sarah’s wrath on me.” He looked over his shoulder, scared she might pop up right behind him and give him one of her stern looks. “Hm?” He turned back to Steve. “Picking up Benni and her siblings from school and walking around a bit. We don’t do much when we’re out. She likes taking walks and says it’s good for the kids.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. 

Steve chuckled at Tony looking over his shoulder for Sarah and then nodded, sipping his coffee. “Sounds peaceful,” he said. “Good to have a peaceful person in your life.”

“Oh lord. If you think for a second that Virginia Potts is a peaceful person, you know nothing about her.” Tony laughed. “She’s a real Sarah-type of woman. She’s scary sometimes. Too young to be _that_ scary but she’ll get there, don’t you worry.” 

Steve chuckled again but Tony’s words saddened him a little. Or a lot. The way he spoke about her. But Steve was happy he had someone in his life even if he didn’t realize it yet. “Hm, sounds like a good one then. Those are rare.” He moved his half-finished plate of eggs onto the counter beside the sink. He might come back for them later but his appetite was gone as was his desire for company. “Have fun, I’ll see ya when I see ya,” he told him with a light pat on the shoulder as he left. 

The sudden change in Steve startled Tony. More than that he worried because Steve not only didn't go for seconds but he didn’t even finish his first portion of food. It took a lot not to get up and run after Steve and ask him what the matter was. He knew what it was. Not all of it but more than enough to know it wasn’t his place. 

Instead he went to change into one of his two suits. That was who he was now. Owner of not one but _two_ suits. This one was a dark grey one he wore with a simple white button-up and a black tie. 

He worked on the things he had planned for the day and organized a few files that needed some sorting. 

After work Tony and Pepper walked to Benni’s school and picked him up and Pepper’s siblings to take them to a nearby playground. Tony didn’t forget that Steve wanted to spend time with Benni but he also wanted his brother to have more friends. 

For a while Tony and Pepper spoke about nothing in particular, watching their siblings before taking them to their homes. 

“Pep, can I buy you a milkshake?” Tony asked, not ready to go back home just yet. Pepper was the only other friend he had and she felt like the only one right now who he wanted to talk to. 

“Ma, I’ll be home for dinner,” Pepper called, stepping into the hallway, and added something in Gaelic which Tony of course didn’t understand. “Let’s go.” She smiled and took his arm.

Pepper with her strawberry milkshake and Tony with his black coffee sat next to each other in a booth at a nearby diner and he stared into the dark liquid in his cup. 

“I might get married this summer. Will ya come to the wedding if I invite ya?” Pepper asked, stirring the straw in her drink. 

“Seriously? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not. He’s the son of ma’s friend. He’s workin’ a steady job and ma wants me looked after. Happy’s a nice enough fella, I guess, just not who I saw myself marryin’.” She leaned back and crossed her legs gracefully. “Ma says marryin’ a friend is better than marryin’ someone I can’t stand. From friendship comes love, she says.” 

Tony looked up at her and thought about her words. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

“‘Course! Who hasn’t been!” She laughed until she noticed the look on Tony’s face. “What? Never?” He shook his head. “That’s jus’ plain sad. We need to find ya a nice bird. I have a friend I think ya’d like her. Do ya want me to bring her next time?”

“How do you know if you’re in love? What does it feel like?” Tony asked, turning to face her and crossing one leg under him to be more comfortable. Pepper’s gaze softened and she look dreamy. 

“What a silly question. When you’re in love you know it.” She shook her head. Tony was not happy with her answer and she knew it. “Fine, I’ll play along.” She turned to face him, sitting less gracefully now. “Imagine ya boilin’ water for potatoes. How do ya know when the water’s hot enough?”

“When it’s boiling, obviously.”

“Right. How do ya know boilin’ water is hot?”

“Physics. It’s a given.”

“Do ya have to touch it to make sure it’s hot?”

“No, of course not. The bubbling is enough.”

“So, when ya lookin’ at boilin’ bubblin’ water, it’s hot, right? When you’re in love it’s the same. Ya don’t need no confirmation. It just makes sense ‘cus it’s a given.” 

“But love is invisible.”

Pepper laughed softly and shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s in small things. Like gettin’ Benni his favorite kinda candy. Or gettin’ me a strawberry milkshake. Those are acts of love, aren’t they?” Those were obvious to him, so he nodded in agreement. “Love is warm an’ fuzzy. It’ll make ya feel like your tummy’s feelin’ funny, like ya can’t eat but in a good way. And it makes ya smile and feel light. And when ya close ya eyes, there’s them. Ya wanna talk to them no matter what, spend time and be together. It just makes sense to love that person your heart chose.”

Tony turned pale as a ghost and stared at Pepper. What he described was what he kept feeling. “Like... a warmth that spreads through your body?” He asked.

“Spreading from here?” She said and touched his chest right above his heart and smiled when Tony nodded. “So you _do_ know what love feels like.”

“No. No, I don’t. I can’t. That’s... no, no. Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed weakly and turned back to his cup of coffee. It was ridiculous. 

“And why’s that?” Pepper asked, scooting closer to Tony who hated her for saying those things, for knowing what he felt. The warmth he felt. The fuzziness in his stomach. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was _him_. His hands started trembling and he felt completely overwhelmed. His body went numb and he was unable to focus on the cup in front of him.

Some time later he felt a hand on the back of his neck. His cup was gone and Pepper’s glass almost empty. He sighed in frustration when he realized that he had gone far away again. 

“Ah, there ya are.” Pepper smiled. “Got me worried there for a minute.” He turned to look at her and sighed again.

“That happens sometimes. Hasn’t happened in a minute though.” He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “How long was I out?”

“Good ten minutes, I suppose.” She shrugged, moving her hand to rub his back. “Ya didn’t flinch when I touched you. Not now, not earlier. I’m glad to see you gettin’ better.” She tried to convince him to get himself a snack or a milkshake, something in his stomach that wasn’t coffee and he eventually did to get her out of his hair. 

“So,” she started once she forced him to drink at least a third of his milkshake. “Wanna tell me what’s going on then?”

“I can’t be in love. That’s it.”

“Why not? You’re in a good place, aren’t ya? You get to live rather than work yourself to death.”

He scoffed even though Pepper was right. He could live a somewhat normal life. If normal was working for a mob boss and laundering his money and keeping his accounts. Not that he was bothered by Steve’s occupation. He was a fair man who kept his word and stood up for others. Dugan, Falsworth and Jones wouldn’t shut up about how amazing Steve was as their leader in war and in their lives now. 

“That’s not it,” he said slowly. He couldn’t tell her why. There was no way he could. Or should, for that matter. Who knew who was listening. Suddenly he felt scared again. Scared Howard would find him. He couldn’t and Tony knew that. He had shot Howard in his face. Howard was as dead as they got. 

Pepper put a hand on top of his and gave him the softest look he had ever seen on her face. 

“Is it ‘cause it’s a fella?” she asked quietly and Tony’s eyes widened in shock and he pulled his hand away. “Tony, calm down,” she said and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay.” She kept saying that until he managed to calm back down a little. 

“H-how did you know?” He asked breathless. 

“What else could’ve gotten your knickers in a knot?”

“Pep, you can’t tell anyone.”

“When will you understand that I don’t go around telling people your secrets? I’m your friend, get that in that thick head of yours, you hear me?” She let go of his hand and grabbed his milkshake, drinking it herself. There was a tense silence between them for a minute. Or maybe Tony was imagining it. He really hoped he was imagining it. “What’s your problem, Tony? Your ma helped Tommy and you were his friend or did that change when you found out?” 

“No, not at all. I just... didn’t... _Not me_.”

“It’s not some deadly disease or the end of the world, ya know?” She crossed her legs again and folded her hands neatly. “Is it someone I know? One of Steve’s men?” She kept her voice low and spoke in his direction. Tony appreciated it very much and it took some of the pressure off his chest. 

“I... Pep…” He looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t say it. It was stupid. Ridiculous. And Steve was heartbroken over James over whatever it was that had happened between them. Those feelings were stupid. 

He could see something in her eyes. Like she had an idea or saw something in him. 

“I won’t push. Just... Tony?” She reached out and took his hand again. “I wish you nothing but the best.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“I’m not. I’m just sayin’ what I’m feeling.”

After that she changed the topic to something else—something about the latest movie—his mind still processing his thoughts and feelings. While he walked Pepper home and hugged her goodbye he still wasn’t done processing. 

And then he stood in front of his home. The home Steve had given him. Everything he had was because of Steve. And everything he felt—and now was also very painfully aware of—came from Steve too. How was he supposed to look at him?

After Tony left—Steve had stood in the hallway upstairs and listened for the door to close—Steve wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t want to leave the house, that was for sure, and he didn’t want any company. Dugan knew he was going through something so when Steve didn’t show up at the office, he took it upon himself to do what needed to be done for the day. No need in bothering the man more. 

Steve went to the piano and thought about playing, standing there, arms crossed, staring at the keys but no inspiration came, no real desire. So he left the living room and didn’t bother with the study because he knew he couldn’t focus on a book. 

He thought about walking over to the gym but Falsworth might be there and he really didn’t want to talk to someone he was less close to than Dugan. He didn’t know where his mother was but he didn’t feel like being coddled either or the alternative, told to get a grip so he didn’t seek her out either. 

Instead, he went to his room and shut the door, crawling into his bed and curling up to sleep. Steve didn’t nap, but today he would. Today there was nothing else he wanted to do other than forget about the world for a little bit. He briefly considered calling James’ home to see if he was really there hiding out, but he needed to respect the space James had requested. 

But his best friend was the only person he wanted to talk to right then and he couldn’t. Not only that, he _shouldn’t_. 

He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes tight, willing himself to sleep.

An hour later, Sarah came home from a day out with her friends at the salon and she searched for someone in the big house. It was quiet. The dishes in the kitchen were still there. At least, one plate was. Everything else was neat and tidy as it should be and she figured the only person in this house so bold as to leave a plate out was her son. 

She headed upstairs when she didn’t find him anywhere else and she pushed the door open to see him sleeping. She didn’t bother him, happy he was finally resting despite knowing full well if he was in his right frame of mind he wouldn’t still be asleep at three in the afternoon. 

She sighed and headed down to the library to sit and knit, something to do while she thought. 

Tony entered the house and was honestly surprised not to be greeted by his little brother. Or Sarah. It was awfully quiet and he didn’t like that one bit. Without checking the other rooms he went back to the office where he found Benni playing a card game with Dugan and Jones. 

“I hope he’s not losing money,” Tony grinned and Dugan scoffed in response. 

“Not if he keeps to what we’re teaching him,” Jones said and laughed when Tony looked at him in shock. Tony didn’t know a whole lot about card games and wouldn’t recognize the game anyways, so he just hoped the men were joking. 

“I think it’s time to let you go, little man.” Dugan smiled and together Benni and Tony left and headed back to the house. 

On their way up the stairs, Tony took a detour and peeked in the library, checking if anyone was even home. 

“There you are. You look nice.” Tony smiled.

“Is that surprise I hear, young man?” Sarah scoffed and put her knitting away to come and kiss them both on their cheeks. “Where have you been?”

“I learned to play cards,” Benni announced quite proudly and looked at the two of them for approval. 

“I worked and then went out with Pepper. We... talked,” he said with a heavy heart. He was in over his head. It was too much for him to handle. “I’ll go change,” Tony said quickly and rushed up the stairs to his room. If looking Sarah in the eyes was this difficult, how was he supposed to look at Steve? And worst of all was how he heard Howard insulting him, telling him he didn’t deserve anything, that he was a whore. 

Tony barely made it to the nearest couch, his legs unable to carry him for much longer. A mix of many— too many—emotions washed over him. There was guilt and a lot of it, fear, even more than guilt, confusion, love, desperation, insecurity and anxiety. Somewhere between the door and the couch Tony had managed to get rid of his clothes and was lying on his couch in his underwear, curling up in the tightest and smallest ball that he could turn himself into. It was too bright to find comfort but the warmth in his room helped. 

He woke up with the wool blanket on him, a pillow under his head and the curtains closed. The fact that he managed to sleep through all that scared him more than he was willing to admit. Never before had he been a heavy sleeper and now he didn’t notice someone putting a pillow under his head? If he wasn’t careful he would lose all his survival instincts he had developed over the years. 

Tony sat up and hugged his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on top of them and taking deep breaths. So much was happening. He didn’t even know where to begin to sort his thoughts. If only everything was as easy as numbers, doing chores, running the store. How did one deal with any of this? 

“ _Aintín_ , he’s up!” Benni, who appeared out of nowhere, called down the stairs.

“Get him ready quick! I’m serving dinner now.” 

“Did you hear that? C’mon, we’re eating now,” Benni said and tried to unwrap Tony’s arms from around his legs.

“ _P_ _lease leave me alone, Benni,”_ he said softly in Italian. “ _I’m not hungry. You go eat and give aunt Sarah a kiss for me._ ” He was frozen in his current position, unable to even lean in to give his brother a kiss or a hug. It took too much effort, too much energy. He couldn’t risk that. 

“ _Are you sick?_ ” Benni asked and reached out to touch Tony’s forehead.

“ _No, I’m just tired._ ”

“ _Do you want me to stay with you?_ ”

“No, I want you to go eat dinner and be a good boy,” Tony said more firmly. He was running out of energy again. Benni gave him a small kiss and headed downstairs. Once he was gone Tony laid back down and closed his eyes again, hoping he could sleep some more. Of course he couldn’t, but giving his body rest also helped. Not with his feelings or the things he saw and remembered. But it was something. Probably.

Tony wasn’t so sure. 

“Where’s Steve?” Benni asked Sarah when he got downstairs and found only her at the table. It was set for three and Benni wasn’t sure if she hadn’t been expecting Steve or Tony and then she asked her next question and he figured it out. 

“Sleep last I checked. And your brother?”

“Also very tired.” 

She said something under her breath in Irish and it sounded very angry, Benni thought. She stood and told Benni to wait a moment while she grabbed her son. She marched up the stairs, only glancing at Tony’s room, and continuing on. She knew Tony still had a lot he was processing and not that Steve didn’t but he hadn’t eaten all day. As happy as she was that he was sleeping, he needed to eat and socialize too. 

She pushed the door open and went in, walking right over to his bed and she gave him a firm smack on the arm. He didn’t jump awake, just turned his head slowly to look at her, apparently not asleep after all. 

“Come eat,” she said simply and it was most definitely a command, not a suggestion. He sighed and pushed himself up, moving to sit on the side of his bed and drag a hand down his tired face. 

He cracked his neck and looked up at her. The hands on her hips swung forward to hold her son’s face and she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“It’s because I care that I’m telling you one more time to come downstairs and eat with us.” He nodded and got up. She took his hand and he let her, leading him down to the table where he saw Benni only waiting patiently, staring at the cooked duck in front of him sending a heavenly smell his way. 

“Where’s Tony?” 

“He’s sleepy,” Benni answered. 

“Is he alright?” 

“I think so.” 

“Let him be,” Sarah told him sternly and Steve dropped his head, feeling a little ashamed. She put potatoes on his plate, some duck, and some asparagus and then did the same for Benni but a third of the portion she gave to Steve. 

Steve ate a couple bites while Sarah asked Benni about his school day and what he’d learned and what he hadn’t understood so well. She normally made a point of going over the things he didn’t understand with him so he never fell back in class. She’d done the same with Steve. 

Steve felt terrible that he didn’t have the energy to ask more than a few questions and certainly didn’t have as animated of an expression as his mother did when Benni told his stories. He hoped the kid knew he cared and didn’t think Steve was bored of him, he just simply didn’t have the energy. 

He finished his food, having no real memory of even eating it, and they all headed to the living room to sit in front of the fire with their dessert. Steve was forcing himself to be with them because he knew it was the right thing to do. Socialize, interact, be with those he cared about and who cared about him. It was hard but he could do this much and then he would shower and crawl back into bed. 

The night with Tony helped in some ways and hurt in others. He felt like he had made some kind of progress with him. Like he was perhaps opening up a way to one day... It was dumb and wrong, he knew. And unfair. But he still felt that way. 

Even despite kissing him when he woke, he still felt alright about the night. Sleeping curled up next to him, breathing in how he smelled and having him run his fingers along Steve’s neck. It… it did something to Steve. Something awful. It gave him hope. Hope that was crushed when Tony talked about going to meet Pepper and Steve was firmly put back in his place. 

He didn’t blame Tony for it. For anything. He blamed himself for letting his guard down, for wanting something he had no right to and then he just wanted to go get a drink and vent to James about it but he couldn’t. His mother didn’t understand, his best friend had cut off all communication and headed five thousand miles east and the only other person he even considered talking to about anything he _couldn’t_ because the thing he needed to talk to Tony about was Tony. 

When he looked up from his glass of whiskey, his mother was staring at him from over her book. He put the glass down and decided to move away from her piercing gaze over to Benni who was drawing on the floor. 

He was lying on his stomach, legs in the air and ankles crossed, a large sketchbook laid out in front of him with crayons and pencils. He was drawing some people playing cards. Steve sat down on the floor beside him and tapped the page.

“Who’re they?” 

“This one here with the crazy hair and mustache is Dugan,” he said, pointing to said stick figure. “The one with no hair is Jones—“ 

“But Jones has hair.” 

“Yes but his hair is black and I used up my black crayon drawing night time,” he said in the most adult way those words could be said and held up the drawing in question. It was a starry night sky with lots of planets too but mostly sky and some stars, some shooting some just twinkling. And then he pulled the focus back to his current picture, “So yeah, Jones has no hair and he’s smoking ‘cus he always smoking and then Falsworth with the pointy nose and the fancy hair.” Steve chuckled.

“You got ‘em all pretty well. What about me?” Benni scrunched up his nose and grabbed a white crayon and held it up to compare to Steve’s skin and he laughed. A real laugh, one that made his eyes go small and he tilted back his head. 

“Real funny,” he teased and Benni giggled, taking the peach crayon instead and drawing a stick figure, then the yellow for Steve’s hair and blue for his eyes. 

Sarah leaned up to look. “That’s the spittin’ image of him! Well done, pet.” Benni beamed up at them, proud of his work. 

Steve and Benni played together—Steve even drew some pictures that Benni described as ‘okay for a beginner’—for another two hours before Benni was rubbing his tired eyes and barely staying upright. Steve pulled him into his arms and stood, carrying him upstairs. Sarah followed, helping him get Benni ready for bed. Benni insisted he would shower in the morning, too tired to shower tonight and after a little back and forth, he got to go straight to sleep after brushing his teeth. 

Steve walked back downstairs with Sarah in silence, doing his best not to look towards Tony’s bedroom as he passed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to give himself something to do and Sarah sighed. 

“How bad is it?” 

Steve laughed darkly. “A lot is pretty shitty right now, you’ll have to be specific.” 

“You’ll watch that language with me, Steven.” He apologized. “With the lad? How bad?” He shrugged and she stopped him in the middle of the staircase, taking him by his arms. “I know there’s a lot you’re keeping from me and I don’t know why,” she admitted, searching his face. 

He dropped his eyes to the floor. He didn’t want to talk about Tony right now. He was at his limits. 

“Pet, come on. I saw you when you were pining after James and I’m watching this and I just _know_ it’s different. Am I right? Tell me that, at least.” Steve nodded. “How so?” 

Steve motioned for them to continue downstairs into the living room and he shut the doors to it like he had the other night while he played piano. They sat on the couch facing one another and he thought about carrying on their conversation but he just didn’t have it in him to talk about Tony. So he changed the topic slightly. 

“How did you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“About me. James. What I am, what we are. All of it.” 

“Well it wasn’t until you were already with him that I began to notice. The secret touches and looks, the blushes and just the way you were after being around him.” She smiled. “Doesn’t take much to realize something’s up.” 

“Were you always fine with it?” 

“I was a little sad for a bit,” she admitted and he looked away, “but only because I really wanted grandchildren.” He glanced back up at her and she reached out for his face, holding her hand softly to his cheek, rubbing her thumb across it. He lifted his hand to cover hers, a small smile on his face. “Seeing how happy you were made that sadness easier until I was just happy you were.” 

She moved closer and he allowed her to reposition them both so they were shoulder to shoulder and she had both of his hands on hers and her head on his shoulder. “I hate that you ever thought I’d think any less of you for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I just saw what happened to that Allen boy and then to the Potts kid and I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone else but James after that.” 

She hummed her understanding, nodded. She still felt like there was more she could have done to let him know how safe he was with her, how much she loved him no matter what. She squeezed his hands and he pressed a kiss into her hair. 

“I love you, ma. Even when I didn’t tell you, there was never a time I didn’t,” he told her. She smiled a little. “But da? I knew if he ever found out he’d kill me himself. So I was careful about saying it or being it in the house, but not because of you.” She didn’t say anything because she knew he was right about his father. 

“Did James’ folks ever know?” She asked. Steve shook his head. 

“They loved him but they were always talkin’ dirty of the ‘deviant’ people,” he said, doing air quotes with one free hand. “His sister knew before she passed. She didn’t care, loved her brother.” James’ sister, Anna, caught him and Steve one day and she had more questions than anything else. She really liked Steve and was just happy that it seemed he’d be around for a long time. She passed in a car accident along with his parents. James loved his parents but losing her had been harder on him. 

“I never knew. Can’t even really remember it and Win and I were good friends,” she said, speaking of James’ mother. 

They were quiet. Just sitting there holding hands, Sarah’s head on his shoulder and she hummed a song. Steve stared at the wall, thinking over what they’d discussed and the last few days. 

“It’s nice seeing you again. You make this big house feel full even when it’s just me and you. And with the boys, it’s lovely, but without you it still felt empty,” she said softly. 

“Sorry,” he said again, “it was just… a lot all at once. I didn’t think you’d all want me around in the mood I was in. Even Dugan’s patience was wearing thin, I could tell.” 

Sarah thought about this, chewing her lip, and then asked, “When did you tell Dugan?” 

“It was in the fight. We’d gone out ten and come back four and it was hard on us all. Some of the men I wasn’t as close to, but it was then that we lost Dernier.” He paused before he continued. “I was in a bar somewhere with Dugan drinking up a storm, Falsworth and Jones just wanted some time alone. Dugan said he had to get back, Emma was waiting on him—the bird he was sweet on at the time—and I said I had to get back to James. Things were quiet for a while before he said ‘I thought her name was Jasmine.’” Steve chuckled and so did Sarah. “Kind of slipped up on that one. He was angry, said some nasty things to me in that moment. The next time we were under heavy fire and I took a bullet for him, you know, the one in my shoulder, he eased up. Eventually came and told me I was a good man regardless.” 

“He was right then and he still is. How is James by the way?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know. He went back to Russia. Don’t know where or even how long for.” Sarah squeezed his hands. “I miss him something awful and I still… I feel terrible I couldn’t—“

“Don’t, Stevie. You can’t make your heart change its mind.” He nodded but still. 

“I know. But I just wish there was something I could’ve done to ease his pain.” 

“Just like I wish I could ease yours and I don't just mean with James.” He knew she was talking about Tony obviously but she didn’t say anything else about him, knowing Steve wasn’t ready for or wanting that talk just yet. 

They talked another few hours and then Steve walked his mother upstairs to bed. He went in and sat on her bed while she talked from her bathroom, brushing her hair. Her room was so different from the others. Light blues and soft greens against the wood. Her bedding flowery and the picture frames around her room also intricate in their style. 

She came over and pressed another kiss to his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Stevie. Know I love you and I’m here for you.”

“I do, ma.” He stood and kissed her cheek before leaving, shutting the door behind him and walking to his own room. But he wasn’t tired so he turned and headed back down to the living room to just sit in front of the fire—where he stayed all night—and think.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Benni go to the zoo! Steve attends the yearly meeting. Tony has a request.

The next morning Tony felt exhausted though he never slept more in his life. It was the weekend and he knew that would mean no work, no school and with that not a lot of things to do to keep himself distracted. He really liked the work he was doing for and with Steve. How would he continue doing that? 

Tony went to collect his clothes, straighten and put them where they belonged before going to take a shower to start the day fresh. 

So he was in love. Apparently had been for some time. Just because he now had a name for what he had been feeling didn’t mean it would change anything. Nothing needed changing. Benni and he were in a good place. A place where he wanted to stay. Not only for the obvious selfish reasons—he didn’t have to run a store, run a household, take care of his brother, be scared of being beaten or insulted or steal money from his own register in order to run away—but also because he felt like he finally belonged somewhere. There was no way he was going to risk that for something as ridiculous as feelings. 

He got out of the bathroom in fresh underwear, getting dressed when there was a soft knock on his door. 

“Yes?”

“Are you up?” Benni asked carefully, standing halfway behind the open door, his dark eyes big and sad. 

“What happened, _bambino_?”

“Nothing. I didn’t want to bother you,” he mumbled and looked down. The insecurity Tony had seen one too many times in the boy was back and Tony hated it. 

“ _You can tell me._ ”

“ _I just missed you_ ,” Benni mumbled, his voice even lower. Tony crouched down and opened his arms and Benni came rushing to hug his brother, gently rubbing his back. 

“I’m right here and you know it,” he said comfortingly because he knew where that fear came from. How many times had Tony turned down Benni and spending time with him over wounds that he needed to take care of? Or errands he had to run? Clothes to stitch up? “Nothing happened to me and nothing will happen to you either,” he promised his little brother, still hugging him tightly. 

“Promise?” Benni asked, holding onto his brother for his dear life. 

“Yes, of course,” Tony said. He knew it. Because he had killed Howard and there wasn’t a single person on this planet he would allow to treat him or his brother the way Howard treated them. “You’re safe here, _cucciolo_. Have you seen _zia Sarah_ get upset? She will protect you. And so will I. And Steve.” Tony pulled away from the hug and dried Benni’s face with the sleeve of his sweater. Not unlike Tony, Benni cried in silence most of the time but that didn’t mean that Tony didn’t notice. 

“Okay,” the boy said and sniffed softly. 

“Let’s have breakfast and then we’ll do something fun today, _how does that sound_?” 

“Yes, please. Just you and me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Benni nodded and Tony agreed, already trying to figure out what he could do together with his brother on a day like that. 

When they got to the kitchen and Tony saw Steve, he was honestly surprised but also very happy. With a nod and a soft smile he greeted him before moving to help him and his mother prepare breakfast. 

“If you keep it up with all your help, I’ll have nothing left to do around here!” Sarah complained jokingly and swatted Tony’s hand away. “Go, sit down. You too.” She turned to Steve and pointed to the chairs behind her. After a moment’s hesitation, Tony nodded, poured himself a cup of coffee and moved to sit down next to Steve.

“What are you going to do today?” He asked simply because he didn’t know what else they could talk about. 

“Spend a day with my best girl,” he told Tony, smiling over at his mother who grinned at him. “You?” 

For a split second he was jealous but then he looked at Sarah. “Benni wants to spend some brother time. I thought about going to the zoo with him.”

“That sounds like a grand time! Here,” Sarah said, reaching around to her purse and pulling out money for them. She held it out for Tony to take. Steve watched, wondering if Tony would tell her it was too much or simply refuse to take it. 

Tony looked at the money, then to Steve and then back at Sarah. It was way too much, as usual. She gave him one of her looks until he took it, thanking her as he did. “I shouldn’t talk about our plans again. Remind me not to please.” 

Sarah scoffed and Steve was grinning, chewing on a piece of toast. “I’ll just start leaving money in your pockets. His too,” she said, pointing at Benni. “No one in my house is leaving out ill-prepared,” she said, only barely stopping herself from saying ‘no child of mine’. She helped herself and Steve to more eggs although his appetite was still not fully back, and added, “And if you’re so deeply against using it for yourself, you can bring me one of those chocolate covered strawberries they sell at the zoo.”

The way Sarah spoke with Tony made him smile brightly. He loved her so much he almost felt bad for his late mother. He thought about the wish he had made _that night_. How he wanted to see his mother and sister again. While he still missed them dearly and would give a lot to see them again, Tony also knew that he was lucky and forever grateful to be where he was now.

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely.

Benni had not been out of Brooklyn since he was a toddler, then Nella got sick and suffered for months, then their mother passed and after that there simply were no more opportunities to even think of anything like this. Tony promised his brother silently that he would show him their mother’s favorite places now that they had the luxury of time to spend together with no other worries. 

They made sure to visit every animal they could, walking around and taking their sweet time. They even had overpriced and stale sandwiches and Tony absolutely loved it. 

And then something Tony didn’t expect happened. Benni tensed, went absolutely silent, didn’t even want to talk about Steve or Sarah. With tears in his eyes he said: “It’s time to go home now,” and Tony pulled him aside to talk to him. 

“ _What is it?_ ”

“Can’t we just go home please?” Benni asked and looked at the floor. 

“Didn’t you want to see the birds? They’re right in that building over there.” But Benni only shook his head. “ _Bambino?_ ”

“Please?” Benni asked again and the way he said it broke Tony’s heart. 

“Yes, of course.” He took his brother’s hand and headed for the exit. Quickly he bought a few chocolate covered strawberries and then they made their way back to Brooklyn. 

As soon as they got home, Benni dashed off to his room without even greeting Sarah or Steve who both looked to Tony. 

“I have no idea,” he said and shook his head. “I’ll go check on him.” 

When Benni came rushing back without saying a word, Sarah and Steve were on their feet immediately and came out into the hallway, watching Tony run off to him. Sarah followed but kept her distance, staying at the top of the stairs in case she was wanted. 

Tony entered the room slowly and found Benni sitting in a corner, hugging his legs close. A position he had seen the boy in way too many times. 

“What happened?” Tony asked softly, on his knees in front of him, resting his hands on Benni’s knees. He wished he wouldn’t have to see his brother like this ever again and yet there they were. “ _Benni, talk to me please_ ,” he asked softly as he sat down right next to him. 

“ _I don’t want to go back._ ”

“ _Go back where, little one?”_

“Our _home._ ”

“ _Benni_ ,” Tony said softly and pulled him in his arms. “ _Th_ _is_ is our home now. We’re not going back ever again.” 

“But what if he comes here?” Benni cried against Tony’s chest.

“He won’t. Because he can’t. There is no way for him, I promise you that, Benni.” _Because he’s hopefully rotting in hell,_ Tony thought. Not once had he allowed Howard to beat or so much as slap Benni and yet the boy had suffered.

Benni cried silently against Tony’s shoulder and there was nothing Tony could say to make it better. Maybe he just needed to get it out. Like he did the other day. Though for him there were different reasons. At one point the door opened slowly and Sarah looked at Tony still holding Benni and gently rocking him in his arms. 

She mouthed the words ‘everything okay?’ and then gestured in such a way as to ask if she should come in or go.

Tony motioned for her to come in and gently pulled away from Benni so he could look at him. “Look who’s here.” He pointed to Sarah. He wished he had a secret language with her too so he could tell her what Benni needed to hear. “Do you want to talk to _aintín_ for a bit? Give her the strawberries we got for her?” Benni remained silent, his eyes dark and sad. “ _Bambino, it’s okay. You can ask her too if you want to. She loves you so much, little one. Everyone does,”_ he said and fixed Benni’s messy hair, stroking his chubby cheeks and kissing his forehead.

Sarah kneeled so she was lower than eye level to Benni, her hand on his knee. She gave him a soft smile and a once over. “Hey there, pet,” she said softly. “I hate to see you so sad. How can I help?” Her voice was determined but still tender, confident but still patient, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Tony held onto Benni, making sure he knew that he was still there for him too. When Benni didn’t answer at all Tony gently rubbed his back. 

“Would you like some cookies? I’m sure _zia_ will have some for you. Even before dinner,” he tried with a small smile. 

“I’m not a baby anymore,” Benni said with a slight pout. 

Sarah chuckled. “As if only babies get cookies. I gave Steve a cookie this morning after you’d all left,” she said, and it was true. She’d just baked oatmeal raisin and she’d brought Steve some when they were done, shooing him out of the kitchen because he kept eating the raw dough. “So if you want cookies, big boys eat them as well.”

“And if you don’t eat them, I will,” Tony said and nodded. “Will you come watch me eat all your cookies?” He asked and tickled his brother until he was squirming and giggling.

A few minutes later they were changed and Tony had even managed to get Benni to wash his face before they headed downstairs to the kitchen. Between everything else Tony had neglected Benni and his needs. Something that he had never done before and he had no intention of repeating the same mistake twice. His feelings for Steve mattered even less even if his heart was racing when he saw him, he would simply have to ignore it. 

Steve was sitting in front of the cookies and Sarah smacked his hand as he reached for another one. She knew this would be one way she could get her son to sit down and fill his stomach. 

“Leave some for the boys. You’ve had at least twenty,” she teased. 

“Twenty-two,” he corrected, finishing the one in his hand before she could take it. He pushed the plate towards Benni, getting up to pour him a glass of milk. “There you go, pet,” he said, echoing his mother as he patted Benni’s head gently and took his seat again. He only slightly ignored Tony or at least, avoided his eyes a bit. 

During their conversation—Steve and his mother—they’d finally got onto the subject of Tony and it was a long and brutal talk. It wasn’t all they talked about but it was enough that Steve had decided he was going to do what was best for everyone. Put his feelings for Tony aside. He and Benni needed looking after and love and affection in the familial way. Anything else was just another burden to add to their already heavy shoulders. 

“And if you don’t eat those,” Sarah mock-threatened, “I’ll just have to give you all another fresh batch.” 

Steve leaned in and stage-whispered to Benni, “Don’t eat them,” with a wink that made Benni smile. 

“Now you’re just spoiling him,” Tony scoffed playfully and took a cookie for himself. Though, he loved everything they did for Benni. He needed some serious spoiling. 

“Can’t we have cookies for dinner?” Benni tried, liking the idea of getting another batch of cookies. 

“Don’t push your luck.” Tony laughed and leaned back. 

“No, sadly we have to have meat and vegetables for dinner but we can have more cookies for dessert,” Sarah compromised. She didn’t mind spoiling him and ruining his appetite today. He needed it. 

Tony wrapped an arm around Benni and kissed his temple. 

“ _No one will hurt you ever again, okay?_ ” He whispered softly and pressed another kiss on top of his head. 

They spent their time in the kitchen, Tony not letting go of his brother while Sarah prepared dinner. Steve helped her every now and then but usually came back to talk to Benni, asking him as many questions about the zoo as possible. By the time they had finished their dinner and Sarah served the fresh batch of cookies, Benni was back to his cheerful, albeit now a lot sleepier, self. 

“Why do I have to go to bed early? I want to stay up with you,” he said between small yawns which he tried to hide. 

“Because we’re done growing and you’re not,” Tony answered simply while drying the dishes. Steve had taken over for him and didn’t leave Benni’s side. “You can stay with us tonight, if you want,” he said, knowing very well that the boy would be asleep within minutes once they settled in the living room. 

Benni agreed to stay and yawned in the middle of his sentence which made Steve chuckle. When Benni sent a look his way for laughing, Steve pretended like he was coughing and took another cookie. 

When Tony was done with the dishes, Sarah thanked him as she always did and they headed for the living room. Steve had lifted Benni up to his shoulders and Benni held on with two hands stuck to Steve’s forehead.

They settled with tea and some more cookies, Benni moving to sit between Steve and Tony. He was refusing to give in to his sleepiness and kept rubbing his tired eyes. He had always been like that, for as long as Tony could remember. For a second it wasn’t Sarah who sat across the coffee table from them. It was Maria and she smiled at a younger Tony who had his toddler brother in his lap and his sister was bringing them tea. The memory made him sigh heavily and he regretted that he had so many memories of them and Benni didn’t. 

Within minutes Benni was fast asleep, curled up in the most awkward and uncomfortable looking position ever but he slept with a smile on his face. 

“What happened, _a ghrá_?” Sarah asked after a while and Tony looked up to her. 

“He said he didn’t want to go back to our home. Something must have scared him, I guess.” Tony gently pulled his brother in his arms. “I’ve tried to keep him as safe as I could. I really did. But I didn’t realize he still got hurt this bad,” he mumbled. 

“This is nothing of your doing, _a ghrá_ ,” Sarah said comfortingly. “You did everything you could and then some to keep him safe and he is now. The times when he wasn’t weren’t because you did anything wrong.” 

“And he knows you did,” Steve added, taking the tiny hand that fell out of Tony’s lap when he moved Benni, and holding it. “He knows.” 

He knew they meant well and that they wanted to comfort him but those words meant nothing to Tony. He was the one to blame. His best hadn’t been good enough after all. “I should bring him to bed,” Tony said and got up slowly. Since Benni had been eating a lot more he also got heavier but Tony refused to not carry his brother to bed. He wouldn’t fail him again. 

When Benni was changed and tucked in, Tony sat on his bed to run his fingers through Benni’s soft hair. His little face was still red and puffy from crying as much as he did. Not wanting to be rude, Tony kissed Benni a last time and headed back downstairs to wish the others a good night. For a moment he stood there and looked at Steve and smiled. Just looking at him made Tony feel better, at least a little. 

Every little noise made Tony wake up during the night, making it impossible for him to find rest. At least Benni seemed to manage to sleep through the night. 

Tired and frustrated, Tony was especially vulnerable to his flashbacks. In combination with those awful memories haunting him from times when he failed to go in between Howard and Benni sooner, Tony was an absolute mess. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Howard's surprised expression when Tony shot him. But he also smelled the gunpowder, felt the recoil, saw the blood and … other bodily materials spattered behind Howard. He had hoped for more relief after killing him. Would that ever be the case? How he wished he could wake Steve to ask him that question. To talk about it all. How did he manage to deal with it? 

Monday came quicker than Steve wanted but work was a welcome distraction. Lately, he’d been trying to push Tony out of his head. To not think about the somersaults his stomach did when those brown eyes fell on him or how perfectly Tony fit in his arms when he hugged him. And especially not how Tony looked when he was laughing or teasing Steve. 

Steve hadn’t really fallen back into his old habits and routines—he didn’t sleep the moment his head hit a pillow, instead he stayed awake most of the night thinking, wandering, and the last two nights, he’d spent in the gym, beating the crap out of the sandbags until it was time to get ready and go. His appetite came and went but when he was really hungry, he ate like there was no tomorrow, knowing himself and how his body needed a certain amount of food to keep him going. 

He dove back into his work which didn’t make his mother particularly happy but at least he wasn’t at home oversleeping and not eating so she could deal with the lesser of two evils. 

He’d noticed on his nights awake that Tony didn’t do much sleeping either and the few times he had passed his room in the middle of the night to get himself water or just to roam his house until he got tired, he’d noticed Benni’s empty bed and figured he must’ve been sleeping in bed with his brother again. He hoped the boy was alright or at least would be a little better soon. He hoped Tony would as well. Sometimes he considered checking to see if Tony wanted to talk but he didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid and selfish again like fall asleep in the guy’s arms. 

“You back, Cap?” Dugan asked as he walked into Steve’s office. Steve was sitting there with his coffee, looking over some paperwork. He glanced up at Dugan who was carrying two onion bagels with cream cheese and salmon. 

“Didn’t realize I had left.” 

“You were just, you know, processing whatever happened with Winter.” 

Steve looked down and ground his jaw before regaining his composure, going for his usual closed-off self. “I’m fine. Tony here yet?” 

“Yeah, he just arrived. I told him Jones needed some help, which he does, just with some sorting. You want him back in here?” 

“If he wants to be. Ask him, wouldja? And bring me an Irish coffee please,” he said, finishing his coffee and handing him the mug. 

He took it, putting the bagel down, and said, “Yes, Cap.” 

Tony didn’t feel like working on Monday. Not with his mind anyway. He wanted simple physical labor, idle chatter during the day, being physically exhausted at the end of it so he could just fall asleep. Falsworth offered to teach him boxing but Tony wasn’t about to start hitting things, or worse, people. Dugan then offered to do strength training with him. Something they had done in the army while they served. And finally Jones suggested Tony could always go for a run, saying that was what helped him every now and then. 

During the first half of the day that was what Tony was thinking about. For the most part. The other part, which he needed to push aside all the time, were his thoughts about Steve who was back in the office. Just as before Tony was working in the background while Steve handled the things that needed his ‘personal touch.’

Steve came into the gym, loading his gun and putting it into his holster and motioned for Dugan to come, nodding briefly to Tony as he left out, Dugan immediately following without another word. 

Once a year every year on the first Monday of the last week of March, all the mob heads met to discuss territory, product, and price. Normally it was the head and their next in charge, which meant Steve and Dugan. Steve, being head of the second largest mob in all of New York, sat nearest the head of the table normally. With James away and not seeming to be coming back even for this meeting, Steve looked to the empty seat at the head of the table where the most feared man in the North East normally sat. 

He glanced at each other face in turn— Madam Gao of the Chinese triad, Don Fisk of the Italian mafia, Mr Cage of the Harlem Mafia, and Bakuto of the Japanese yakuza—and they decided to wait another minute for James if for no other reason than they all feared him. Steve knew he wouldn’t— 

Dmitri came in and stood behind his boss’ usual chair, hands clasped in front of him. 

“And will Mr Romanov be—“ Mr Cage didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as James came in. He didn’t look at Steve nor any of them. He walked to his seat, standing tall and strong and angry. He looked different but Steve couldn’t pinpoint exactly how. 

“Start the meeting,” he said forcefully. Dmitri pulled his chair out for him and he sat, looking at the papers Dmitri then handed him. 

They discussed their business and how it was going or not going, in some cases. The Chinese were still doing well with heroin and opium production. The Harlem gang’s monopoly on crack and weapons had their business booming. 

“Really? People want your crack-cocaine when my pure heroin is out there?” Madam Gao asked, a mocking note to her voice. 

Mr Cage gave her a look and laughed. “People want what’s available to them closeby regardless of what it is. If it makes ‘em forget whatever shit they saw in the war, they’ll eat it up like it’s chocolate.” 

“Touché,” she said with a nod. 

Bakuto, the leader of Steve’s least favorite group, reported that business was good as usual. He dealt heavily in people-trafficking. Mostly from poor East Asian countries, promising them better lives in America where he actually brought them to be prostitutes and exotic dancers. Steve knew he’d been to a few risqué clubs in his life and he was a regular at James’ brothel but those were owned and stocked by James and his men. He knew they either offered to come or did it to pay the bills. 

“America is the promised land. You people win fights without bringing them to your own soil,” Bakuto said with a smile that made Steve want to bash his face in. “The girls are all only too happy for a chance to experience that promise.” 

Steve was glaring at him and when he caught sight of it, he cocked an eyebrow, the first person to challenge Steve in a while at one of these meetings. 

“Oh? Mr Rogers, don’t like what _I_ do for a living? Perhaps it’s time you invest in some mirrors,” Bakuto said. 

“Perhaps it’s time _you_ invest in some silence,” James said roughly and Bakuto shut up instantly. James still didn’t look at Steve nor anyone else, his eyes on the papers he had in front of him—reports from them all, the work Tony had been helping Jones organize that morning. 

The Don commented on Italian organized crime, glaring at Steve whom he still held a grudge for after the Irish had taken some of their territory by force a few years ago. Steve barely acknowledged his existence, staring at the wall behind his head. Most of the Don’s reports were boring and non substantial and James quickly ushered him on. 

Steve then spoke of the racketeering he was maintaining neatly, giving vague details because no one needed to know all of his business. He mostly spoke of the protection-racket and his own dealings with the few drugs the Irish dealt in—prior to the repealing of the prohibition their main product had been alcohol but it was no longer an item of high value. 

James nodded the entire way through, giving very minor details of Russian activities, even less than Steve, but James could do that because he knew no one at that table would demand more from him. 

The only reason they had these meetings was to keep them all in place, remind them that they could all coexist and still come out on top, none of them shared except Russian and Irish but that was a choice. They all had their own neighborhoods and had enough turf to cover and work to do. 

There was more discussion of territory and James inquired of the actual purity of Gao’s red snake heroin, as she called it, and she offered to send him off with some that she pulled out of her pocket in a tiny packet. James took it and handed it to Dmitri without a word. 

James asked a few more questions and got answers to only some but confused ‘no’s to others. He whispered something to Dmitri who nodded. 

When the meeting was over, it was almost midnight and the six most powerful and dangerous people on the east coast all left the same place and headed to their respective territories. Some happier when they left, others—mainly Don Fisk—frustrated. 

Steve turned to talk to James who had been standing beside him and startled when he noticed the man was gone. So was Dmitri. There was no sign of them anywhere. There wasn’t even a car. 

Steve turned to Dugan who seemed just as confused and opened the car door for Steve. 

“Did he seem off to you?” 

“You know I can’t tell happiness from misery on Winter’s face,” Dugan told him, pulling out onto the street. 

Steve wondered how long he would be back. If he had even ever gone to Russia or if that had all been a lie. It hadn’t been _that_ long yet. He knew James wasn’t the same as him, but was that really all the time he needed or did he really see this meeting as being important enough to have to deal with seeing Steve for a few hours. 

When he got back to the office, he went in to finish up some work for the night. It was mainly his own personal account-keeping of the going-ons of the others. They may have been working together in some weird way, had some strange alliance only by word-of-mouth, but that didn’t mean Steve had to trust them. 

He looked over his notes from the whole evening. So the Chinese were running heroin and opium, laundering money and counterfeiting it and other valuables. The Italians had most of the police force under their control and high-up political connections, keeping elections rigged and things right where they all wanted them. No goody-two-shoes mayor was going to come in and try to clean up the crime in the city. That’s what these meetings were for, to keep the crime organized and stamp out what wasn’t. If there was anything happening or that had been witnessed and the activity did not belong to one of the six groups there, it was eliminated and that’s why James had asked his follow-up questions at the end. 

Steve looked back down at his notes. The Japanese were still human-trafficking and gambling, the casinos belonged to them and they were known to fix races for personal gain. The Harlem mafia was working with cocaine and weapons. 

And they _all_ were engaged in racketeering, extortion—without the option of protection that Steve gave, however—and illegal substances. Some were just better and more known for it. The other thing they all offered were termination services but the Russian and Irish excelled in this area. Like when James had found out that the bakery purposefully burned down in Hell’s Kitchen was not the result of some petty gang war, but instead solo criminals, he’d tasked Dmitri to find them and take them out. 

When Steve finally went back home, it was nearly three in the morning and he poured himself a triple and sat down on the couch, staring at the cold, empty fireplace and sitting in the darkness. He drank his whiskey, loosening his tie and sighed. 

These meetings used to excite him but now he found them tedious and unnecessary. He didn’t care to know what the others were doing so long as they stayed in their areas and did it. He didn’t care to see them either. He had cared to see James, however, and wished he had stuck around for even a minute longer so Steve could talk to him. 

The only good thing to come out of that long meeting was how much it got Steve’s mind off Tony. He had barely thought about him all day. Maybe this was working, _would work_ , maybe he could get over Tony like he did James. 

The next morning, Steve woke around seven and considered calling James. He knew he shouldn’t. Everything was telling him to leave him alone because he needed the time alone but Steve needed a friend. He desperately needed a friend who understood him and what he was and what he was feeling but he couldn’t do that to James. 

So instead he got changed and went to the gym. An hour and a half later, he came back in for breakfast, sweaty and tired. He’d fallen asleep somewhere around 4:30am. 

He opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of water as his mother entered the kitchen. 

“Ugh, Steven, you need a bath,” she said, pinching her nose and pretending to wave away his smell. He finished the glass and turned to give her a look, all in good fun. She looked him up and down and added, “Maybe even two.” 

He chuckled and sat down at the table. 

“I’ll take one after breakfast.” 

“No, you’ll take one now. I won’t have you stinkin’ up my kitchen.” He thought about arguing that it was _his_ kitchen but in the end, what good would that actually do him? On the way up the stairs he was met with Tony who was coming out of his room. 

Steve was in slightly better spirits today, getting most of his aggression and pent up emotions out during the workout not to mention the post-exercise endorphins running through his body and he gave the exhausted-looking brunet a cautious but genuine smile. They hadn’t spoken much since the night they’d spent together on the couch. Actually, they’d barely spoken at all since then. Only tiny bits of chit chat here and there about Benni. 

“Mornin’,” he said, hesitating, his steps faltering slightly. Should he keep walking to his shower and talk to him at breakfast? Or perhaps engage him a little now? He waited for Tony’s reaction and then he would decide. Maybe Tony wouldn’t even speak. 

All of these thoughts raced through Steve’s mind in nanoseconds, his eyes watching Tony’s, those big beautiful chocolate eyes. 

Again Tony had spent a night wide awake, unable to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see Howard— memories from when he was younger, when Maria was still alive, then when he started drinking, started hurting Tony on a daily basis and finally when Tony had shot him in the face. Benni’s anxiety about having to go back had amplified Tony’s own feelings. He remembered very well what Steve had told him and maybe it was time to talk about it?

Just when he had that thought, he nearly bumped into Steve. Beautiful and pale and beautifully pale Steve. For a second Tony forgot to breathe.

“Morning,” he greeted him with the smallest smile. He was scared of giving away how he felt. “Steve?” He asked while he still felt emotionally strong enough. “Can we talk later? About... what I did?” He didn’t dare to put it into words. The pride he had felt about having done it was gone. Something else filled that space in Tony’s heart and it didn’t feel good at all.

Steve didn’t like Tony’s voice or the hesitation in his sentence. He especially didn’t like the look in his eyes but when he spoke, he understood why he didn’t and he would do everything he could to make it hurt less. 

“Of course,” he said firmly. He was there for Tony, he’d clear his whole day for him if he had to.

“Thank you,” he said and looked at the floor. Why did he bother Steve with things like that?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a good talk. Then they dance. Then they... talk some more.

That evening after dinner Steve went to his study and something about the way he looked at Tony, told him to follow and so he did. Sarah didn’t seem to need an excuse why Tony wouldn’t help with the dishes and frankly he was grateful because he wouldn’t have known what to tell her. 

When Tony entered the room Steve was standing in front of the record player and adjusting the volume of the music before turning around with a glass of alcohol in his hand. Why that made him look so good Tony couldn’t say and probably shouldn’t even be thinking.

Tony sat down on the couch and looked at Steve. How did he start talking about what was bothering him?

“Does it ever stop? Feeling like you’re killing them over and over again?” He asked bluntly, hoping Steve wouldn’t mind. For the first time Tony admitted it to himself that he had killed Howard. Yes, he knew he had shot him and Howard had died. But before that night he never said the actual words. “It’s not that I regret it. I’m just sick of seeing him. I can’t sleep.”

Steve’s grip on the glass tightened when Tony spoke and he sighed inwardly, trying to keep his face as reassuring and comforting for Tony as possible, not worried. 

But what did he say? The truth would crush him but maybe he just needed some facts. Steve would never lie to him but the thought of seeing Tony’s face drop even more than it already was hurt him so profoundly he could have laughed—apparently his efforts to get over him weren’t working at all. 

He looked him in his eyes and said, keeping his voice steady, “Sometimes. Sometimes you can forget but it never truly goes away. There are some I’ve forgotten but that tends to happen when your body count is where mine is,” he said. He came over and sat down on the couch next to Tony. He reached out, putting a hand on Tony’s knee very lightly, just as an added bit of comfort. “But I still remember the first one.” _And for you the last_ , he thought to himself. Never again would he put Tony in a position to relive or remember what had happened if Steve could help it. He would even keep his own gun out of sight in case it might trigger him. 

“Once you’ve put enough time between yourself and it, it’ll pop into your dreams and your head less often. And when you do see it, it won’t be as intense,” he told him slowly, measuring Tony’s expressions. “I haven’t forgotten my first but even when I’m reminded, it’s tolerable. Now.” His voice went impossibly softer. “But the difference between me and you and dealing with this is that you’ve got all of us here to help and most of us know what you’re feeling—me, Dugan and the fellas, and James w-when he’s back,” he added, tripping over his words slightly as he added it but it was no less sincere. 

Tony listened closely to what Steve was saying and nodded at the end. Yes, he wasn’t alone but then again, he was, wasn’t he? At the end of the day no one could truly know what was going on with him. Especially not when he didn’t let anyone in on his feelings. 

For a split second Tony wanted to asked about Steve’s body count. If he ever took real pleasure in it. But one look at the man and he knew he didn’t. No one with a heart as soft as Steve’s could enjoy that kind of thing. 

“If I had known this would bug me as much as it does, I would have dragged it out with him.” Tony snorted and leaned back. “Thank you though. That helps.”

Steve gave him a sad look, a tilted head and worried eyes, but then it was followed by a small smile. “I’m glad you came to me. It’s a relief knowing you’ll talk to me when you really need to.” _I should’ve shot him and never even told you where he was_ , Steve thought to himself. He would regret this until the day he died.

“I’d rather talk to you about other things than this, honestly. But I didn’t want to bother you,” Tony said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal even though to him it was. He would love to spend much more time talking to Steve if he could. 

Steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he knew that his face had reacted faster than his brain could catch up. How could he ever feel bothered by Tony seeking him out to talk to him? If anything, he felt privileged. So he ran with it, hoping Tony wouldn’t read too much into his words. 

He was shaking his head like he couldn’t quite understand as he said, “Bother me? Tony, never. Granted, I was having a… time there the last couple days but you don’t _bother_ me. And while I’m glad we talked about it, we don’t have to stay on the subject now. What is it you were wanting to talk about?”

“You have better things to do than to talk to me about these things.” Tony shook his head and in any other situation he might have gotten up to leave Steve but somehow he couldn’t find it in him to do that. “ _Don’t know_.” The words came out in Italian, so used to saying that in his mother tongue that it took a moment to realize he was actually talking to Steve. “Sorry. I don‘t know,” he repeated in English, smiling and shaking his head in embarrassment. 

Steve actually laughed. He couldn’t help it. If only Tony knew how quickly Steve would burn anything and everything he needed to do if Tony told him to. If only he knew how much Steve wanted to talk to him over anyone and everyone else. Before Steve could reply, Tony was speaking again and it took him a second to realize he’d spoken the words in Italian and then once again Tony beat him to the chase but honestly, that time it might’ve taken Steve a while longer to respond because Tony slipping into Italian was one of the few pure joys in Steve’s life. 

He knew he was giving Tony that soft smile he normally only aimed his way when the man was asleep or otherwise not looking at Steve but he couldn’t help it. He was _so adorable._

“I understood,” he told him a little sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to learn a few words.” He felt the blush but continued talking. “Talking to you about these things _is_ my better things. Everything else I do is work. This isn’t.” 

Tony pressed his lips together when he blushed. He’d been learning Italian? His first instinct was to feel ashamed because apparently he had been slipping into Italian more than he realized and was giving Steve a hard time understanding him. But the way Steve said those words… That couldn’t be the reason. “ _When you say things like that, I don’t know what to do with myself or what to say to you. That isn’t fair, don’t you think_?” He said while not breaking eye contact with Steve and taking a deep breath before continuing. “Then maybe we should make it a daily appointment. You and me sitting down to talk?” 

Steve licked his lips, watching Tony speak, his heart racing like it was going to fly right out of his chest. Steve had heard Italian before, always thought it was a nice language, but now coming out of Tony’s mouth, it was _beautiful_. He could have listened to him read the ingredients in lotion for hours so long as he did it in Italian. Truth be told, he wouldn’t be too bothered if he read them in English either. 

Steve caught exactly four words “ _tu_ ”, _“non so_ ” and “ _cosa_ ”. Together it made no sense no matter what order he put them in and he found himself pulling his eyebrows together again in confusion and chuckling. “I got about twenty percent of that but nothing to help me respond to you. However, that last part was clear as day despite my shite English. Appointments are fine and well but I’d also like to simply talk to you”—all the time? That’s certainly what he wanted to say—“whenever we can. When would you like to make your appointment for?” he asked with a laugh, grabbing one of the smaller pillows off the couch and holding it in his lap, very aware of how uncomfortably tight his trousers had become when Tony spoke Italian. 

“You can just say _‘You’re right, Tony.’_ ” Tony said with confidence he wasn’t used to, biting the inside of his cheek. “What I’d like and what is possible are two different things,” he said, now more somber, his words carrying more weight than he intended. What he wanted to do was be closer to Steve, run his hands over his body, tell him how he felt. What he could do was sit next to him, talk to him and be his friend. Which was also nice but not quite what Tony would prefer, if he was completely honest. “It would be nice though. Spending time after dinner, after talking with _aintín_ and the little one. You and me just sitting here talking.”

Steve filed the phrase away after a few mental practices and then found himself stuck on ‘what I want and what is possible.’ What _the actual hell_ did that mean? Steve’s heart rate was picking up again and he knew better than to get his hopes up over some ill-phrased sentence. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, looking up to meet Tony’s eyes. 

“Done,” he said firmly. Steve had always had dedicated personal time that no one interrupted. Usually it was in the afternoon after he’d finished work and before going home. Now it would be after dinner and he’d make damn sure everyone knew it changed and that he was not to be bothered by anything for any reason.

He fought back the desire to move closer, to move his hand to sit dangerously far up Tony’s thigh and ask what else he wanted in the voice he knew from experience had a mean effect on men. He leaned further into the couch, licked his lips again. God he was dying to kiss Tony. It was like being denied air at this point but he kept himself composed. “Can we start now?” he asked, risking coming across as over-enthusiastic and suspicious.

Tony looked at his wrist where there should be a watch and he pretended to be thinking about something. “Sure, but make it quick. I have a busy evening ahead.” He tried to say it seriously but one look at Steve and he had to smile. Something about Tony changed when he was with Steve. There was a side to him he didn’t know existed but that Steve brought out. He felt lighter and warmer than ever before. 

“Since you were been born in July, I assume you prefer the warmth?” Tony shifted and made himself more comfortable on the couch next to Steve, turning his body so he could look at him easier. When Steve looked at him in confusion, Tony continued: “In Italian we say the— _ah what is the word_ —” He tapped his chin in thought, mumbling in Italian “— the seasons! In Italian they say the seasons have something to do with who you’re going to be. Which is why Benni is shy and calm but warm and easy, because he was born in August. For me they say I am very hot-headed and feisty, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with talking about himself. 

“July is hot.” Tony swallowed a bit when he said that, his mind automatically going to a sleeping, half-naked Steve with bedhead. Yes, Steve was _very_ hot. “In your character, not in appearances. Not that you’re not good-looking. That’s not what I wanted to say—” He blushed and quickly looked away. Why did he have to make it this awful? “Hot-blooded.” Tony finally said after a very awkward moment of silence. “That’s what I meant. But also clear like the summer sky. Like your eyes.” Tony knew he was saying words but his heart was beating so fast and so loud in his ears that he wondered if he was truly speaking. And if Steve was able to hear his heart too. 

Steve listened to Tony talk, watching him like he was just the most precious person in the world. Seeing Tony get flustered while talking confused him but he chalked it up to them not being used to just chatting like this and because Tony kept slipping up in what he was saying. Complimenting Steve’s looks and then his eyes but by his expression Steve assumed he had just noticed but didn’t want Steve to misinterpret it as more than observation but that was fine. Steve was just happy to know Tony had noticed things about him. 

“I actually prefer spring and autumn. Winter’s a definite no—it’s just too cold here for anyone’s good—and summer, well… this Irish skin,” he said, lifting his forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, “does not do well in the sunlight.” He chuckled. “I don’t tan, I just burn. What about you?” 

“I don’t mind the sun. I tan a bit.” He rolled up his sleeve neatly, holding his arm next to Steve’s. Despite him and his winter skin he was still more tanned than Steve. “That’s really pale.” He chuckled and leaned back, his eyes still on Steve’s strong and veiny arms. He almost sighed in delight but managed to bite it back. “Do you ever go to the beach during summer?”

Steve laughed, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable Tony was talking to him now. He _was_ pale next to Tony—next to anyone but his mother he supposed—and he’d never truly noticed how nicely olive-toned Tony was even in winter until now. “Not as much as I’d like. It’s peaceful, that’s what I appreciate about it. Would you like to go this summer?” 

For the second time that night he thought back to half-naked Steve in his bed and Tony had to adjust himself on the couch, his blood going places. And if that happened already and he couldn’t keep his mind from going to those kind of things, how was he supposed to continue being friends with Steve? That thought scared him. At least it helped to clear his mind of those other thoughts.

“I haven’t been to the beach in years. It would be nice if we could make the time.” He nodded and looked around the room because he couldn’t look at Steve right now. 

“Consider the time made,” Steve said, getting even more comfortable on the couch, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow resting on the back of the couch. “What else do you want to do that you haven’t been able to?” He had to add that last part for his own sake, his other hand staying firmly on the pillow in his lap.

“I haven’t given it that much thought, to be honest. First, I had to heal and then I started working for you. And now I simply take one day after the other.” He looked down to Steve’s hand on the pillow. He was sure it would be more comfortable where Tony’s hands were. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“And you know workin’ for me is still completely optional, right?” His eyes did a quick sweep of Tony and his heart thudded once, loudly, in his chest. Why was he doing this to himself? Maybe it was the exhaustion or the alcohol. Maybe he needed _more_ alcohol. He picked up his glass and finished it off, grateful for the burn taking his mind off other things. 

A moment later and he was even able to stand and refill his glass. Heading back over to the couch, he tried to ignore all the suggestions that popped into his mind when Tony asked. 

“Well, let’s keep doing it how you are. One day at a time. You or Benni see something you wanna do, we’ll make the time and do it. Simple.” 

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I like what I’m doing. It’s fun and it makes your life easier too because you know you can trust me. You know that, right?” He watched him refill his glass. Why and how that made Steve look even more attractive he again couldn’t say. Ever since he realized his own feelings Tony couldn't think about anything else. With Steve this close it was even more difficult.

“I didn’t think you sounded that way. I was just lettin’ you know,” he explained. He knew if anyone was grateful for anything in their life it was Tony. He had thanked Steve more times than Steve could remember. “And of course I know I can trust you.” He sipped his drink, watching Tony from above the rim of it. He needed to change the setting or he was going to do something he’d regret but he had no idea how to change it and he also really didn’t want to. 

Tony shifted again, leaning closer to Steve. He knew that Steve had feelings for another or at least that he used to. Whatever the current situation was, didn’t matter. But Tony still needed to ask the question.

“What would it take for you? To... not want me around anymore?” He asked carefully.

Steve thought about laughing and making things light but it seemed like this question came from somewhere deep down, something more than a light inquiry. “Nothing. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me not want you around, Tony.” 

“Ever?” He asked, his throat even drier than before. 

Steve’s voice dropped an octave, he wanted to take Tony’s hand when he spoke, his eyes locked on the other man’s. “Never.” 

His heart nearly skipped a beat and he took a deep breath. _Even if you knew that I was in love with you?_ No, he wouldn’t ask that but he wanted to. He needed to know. Instead he simply nodded, his eyes still locked on Steve’s.

Steve watched him a moment, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Steve had an idea of what it might be but it was far-fetched and a dream at most. Still tonight, he decided to give himself a little hope, a little ‘maybe’. 

“What about dancing? You a fan?”

“Dancing?” He asked surprised. “I never learned how to dance. Pepper took me to a dance once but I refused to ask anyone to dance.” How often did he have to say that word? It was embarrassing. 

The music was still playing in the background, ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ filling the room and boosting Steve’s confidence. Plus, overcome with jealousy, he wanted to make Tony forget about Pepper. Tony was _his_ , not hers. 

He stood, unbuttoning his waistcoat with the flick of a hand and then offering that hand to Tony. “May I?”

Tony took his hand and he pulled him up with a smooth tug into his arms. Tony bumped into him with the force of the pull and Steve chuckled before arranging them properly, Tony’s right hand in his left, Steve’s other hand low on Tony’s back and Tony’s left hand on Steve’s shoulder. They danced slowly to the music. Steve was watching Tony’s face at first and then he pulled him closer, tilting his head so their cheeks were close to one another’s, Steve’s nose nuzzled against Tony’s ear. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, spinning them slowly to the melody. 

“Not so hard, huh?”

If it hadn’t been for Steve holding him, Tony wouldn’t have been able to dance, let alone stand. He was so close to Steve, feeling his warmth, his breath tickling on his ear and neck. Maybe it was okay to dream a little dream. Enjoy the moment and allow himself to be excited about it. And maybe there was a reason why people loved to dance. Or maybe it was just the feeling he got from dancing with Steve.

“Not hard at all,” he answered softly, pressing closer to Steve. And maybe life wasn’t so bad after all and it had all been worth fighting for. 

“Hmm,” Steve said, his eyes still shut and a smile on his lips, his hand pulling Tony even closer. On beat, he took a step back and then pushed Tony out gently with the hand holding his hand, spinning him and then bringing him back in. He watched Tony as he spun out, his eyes on him, full of love and relaxed happiness. He felt drunk but he knew he wasn’t. Not on alcohol at least. 

He pulled him back in, swaying again. “You’re a natural.”

“No.” He smiled and nuzzled back against him. “You’re a good leader.” It was true. Tony had no idea what he was doing. Following Steve’s lead was easy though. 

“Maybe,” he said, dipping Tony gently, staring into his eyes, his own half-lidded and that same lazy smile on his face. He was happier than he'd been in months. His eyes fell from Tony’s to his lips and he sighed, licking his own slowly and pulling him back up. 

The music ended but Steve kept dancing as the next song started. 

“You okay?” He asked him, his lips at his ear again.

For a second Steve stopped when the song ended and it made Tony worry he would have to let go of Steve and go back to sitting next to him. Instead they simply continued and Tony could breathe again. 

“I’m fine,” Tony confirmed with a smile. “Perfect even,” he added with his voice barely more than a whisper. The next song was even slower, so they were swaying softly. Tony was very aware of every little thing and at the same time his mind was empty and there was only Steve.

Steve couldn’t even find the will to say whole sentences, so happy, keeping his face pressed close to Tony’s he sighed again. He didn’t want to be greedy. This was already more than he should’ve gotten or taken and yet he wanted so much more. He wanted to hold him like he _really_ wanted. He wanted to kiss him as they turned slowly in the dimly lit room. He wanted to hug Tony tight and tell him he would always be there for him.

Steve pulled back, staring in Tony’s eyes, still swaying. He smiled, staring at Tony’s lips for much longer than he should’ve. He ducked his head slightly as if to kiss him, so close, just one kiss. Maybe he could play it off like an accident. 

And then he pulled away, millimeters from his lips because it didn’t matter. It wasn’t right and he wouldn’t do that to him. He loved Tony and even if he couldn’t show him the way he wanted, he would love him in every other sense of the word. 

Steve didn’t know what to say, he just gave him a shy smile.

Steve looked at him, leaned in and Tony froze. He could feel Steve’s breath on his face. He tilted his head, waiting for the kiss that never came. And why should it? It was a beautiful moment, yes. But Steve probably remembered who he was with and that person was certainly not who he wanted there and then. But oh that smile. So sincere. Was he apologizing? 

Tony pulled away while still smiling even though his heart was breaking. Steve would never want him. And why should he? Tony of all people? He wanted to laugh. Cry. Yell. But instead he smiled. 

“Thank you. That was nice,” he said as sincere as possible. “I... should probably go try to catch up on sleep.” Without waiting for an answer he headed for the door and opened it. In the hallway he turned back to look at Steve. “Thank you for the dance,” he said again and he meant it. Oh how he meant it. 

Steve hesitated. And then he followed Tony hastily and he grabbed him by his arm, looking him in his eyes, urgency in his actions. 

“What would it take for you to want to leave?” He asked, hoping to hear what he wanted. 

“W-What?” He asked utterly confused, not having expected Steve to follow him. “Leave you? I’d only ever leave if you asked me to,” he answered truthfully.

Steve sighed, quick and deep and nervous. “Okay,” he said, grabbing Tony’s face as gently as possible, having imagined this moment over and over and over in his daydreams. He tilted his face up and closed his eyes as he caught Tony’s lips in a kiss. Steve sighed into it like he was dying and Tony’s lips were the cure. 

He moved so their bodies were together, closer, he wanted to be _closer_. 

For the first time in his life Tony wanted to be touched, pulled, held. The height difference made him feel safe, not small. The kiss made him feel whole, not lonely. The closeness to Steve warmed the darkest and coldest parts in him. And so he wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle and moved his lips gently against Steve’s.

Tony’s movements answered the questions Steve had. Maybe he wasn’t interested, maybe he was curious, but whatever happened, he wasn’t protesting and Steve held him loosely enough still that he could move away if he wanted. 

Steve moved his lips so it pushed Tony’s open and his tongue slipped in. 

He backed them into the wall in the hallway and his hands dropped from Tony’s face to his body. Steve’s hands held Tony’s waist and he was desperate for more of him but he knew he was already pushing it. 

He pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against Tony’s and breathing hard. 

“I…” he wasn’t sure what to say. Apologize? Ask if it was alright? Just leave?

When Steve pulled away Tony was flooded by a wave of emotions and questions. Had he done something wrong? Why did he stop? Was he already regretting it?

Tony didn’t let go but looked at Steve, desperate for an answer to a question he didn’t dare ask.

“You?” He asked, his voice trembling.

Steve stared into Tony’s eyes, searching, trying to understand what was going on in his head. “Don’t leave.” 

“I don’t want to,” he said, forcing himself not to break eye contact. “Are you… sure?”

“Please,” Steve said, closing his eyes. If Tony left he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. “Please,” he repeated, not one to beg. 

Tony moved to rest his hands on the back of Steve’s neck and leaned in to kiss his lips again. 

“Do you… do you want this?” Steve asked, kissing him again too. “Please don’t just do this to make me happy or because you feel bad for me. I need you to want this too or I don’t want it.”

Tony looked at him and wanted to tell him what he felt. He had thought about nothing else ever since he had realized it. Then why was it so difficult to form words? To say those words?

“I want this,” Tony managed to say. “I want _you_.” Was he saying he wanted Tony? Making sure Tony wanted him? 

“Really?” Steve asked, excited like a small child became when told they were going to get the thing they loved. “Tony.” He kissed him again. “I’ve wanted this for so long… _please_ …” He pulled him close again, his arms around Tony. He kissed his forehead. 

The way Steve asked hurt Tony. Not because he felt offended but because Steve couldn’t believe it. 

“You said you trusted me,” he said with a sincere smile. “Then _trust_ me.” He pressed his forehead against Steve’s. “You’re all I want.”

Steve exhaled shakily. “Tony,” he said, his voice clear and firm now, “you—you’re—I.” He shook his head, words weren’t important right now, just being here with Tony was. Remembering every detail about this moment in case he woke in the morning and Tony changed his mind or Steve realized he was dreaming. He pulled Tony into his arms, holding him securely, and he led him to the study, shutting the door behind them.

They sat on the couch and Steve moved to hover just over Tony, gently pushing him down, not letting his full weight sit on him. He kissed him slowly, lovingly, trying to convey to Tony how much he meant to him without saying the words and scaring him off so soon.

He pulled away as reality set in and managed to cut through the wonderful haze and euphoria that was kissing Tony. “I just… I don't understand. You’re… like me?”

If someone had told Tony that kisses could say more than words, he wouldn’t have believed it. Until Steve kissed him. It was difficult to focus on words once Steve stopped. The sudden loss of Steve’s lips and tongue was awful, making him whine ever so slightly. 

“Like you?” He asked, moving a hand to Steve’s face. How could he ever be anything like Steve? But Tony knew that Steve was also only interested in men. And from what Tony could tell and from the way his body _definitely_ reacted to Steve it didn’t leave much doubt. 

“You’re… I’ve… never... good god—" He was so nervous and scared but also full of love and in need of a lot more. “You’re the first fella I’ve had these kind of feelings for that I noticed. But looking back, I was relieved when Tommy told me how he felt. And I think my mom saw it in me too.”

If Steve could have bottled the feeling that was Tony reaching out to touch his face or recorded the sound that he made when Steve stopped kissing him, he would and he would have both on constant repeat when he was away from Tony. His mother was right, this was different from how he had loved James. 

Steve was confused though. So Tony knew he liked fellas before now? Or it wasn’t until he developed feelings for one that he knew? Or… “Probably,” he said, in answer to the last thing he said, “mine saw it in me. So… you like both then?”

Tony’s heart was beating even faster now, his hand that was still on Steve's cheek, trembling slightly as he shook his head.

“No... only men,” he whispered. “Only you,” he said even quieter. 

Steve’s eyebrows went up in shock. Just him. What did that mean exactly? Had Steve actually made someone question towards whom they felt love? That he found hard to believe but harder still that Tony only liked him. He still didn’t totally understand but he would accept it. Kind of. 

“Why me?” He asked, leaning back away from Tony, enough that Tony’s hand fell away from his face. He sat up on the couch. Steve was aware that he was good-looking, rich, powerful and that these things were attractive and not that that was what he thought attracted Tony but it had happened in the past that someone he cared for was only interested in one or more of those things. With Tony, he worried more about a sense of duty, of gratitude, a need to repay Steve in any way possible even if Tony didn’t realize that was what he was doing. Steve needed to know Tony loved him for him. 

When Steve sat up, creating more space between them Tony got scared. He should have not said that. He was going to lose Steve. That was it? He sat up as well, bracing himself for whatever was going to come as he looked down at the couch. 

And yet Steve never reacted the way Tony thought he would. Why him?

“Because when I saw you for the first time I felt like someone saw me. You made me feel like I belonged.” He spoke slowly, thinking about every word that was leaving his mouth. “Seeing you became my week’s highlight. And you threatened Howard because of what he did to me, you saw without having to be told. You knew what was going on but you didn’t brush it off like everyone else.”

Steve nodded, listening and processing. And then he said, quiet but honest, his eyes intense, “Howard aside, it’s a damn shame you think anyone could not see you.” He smiled softly. “I had you come every week to keep an eye on your marks and bruises, but apart from that I did it because seeing you relaxed me.”

Tony placed his hand in the middle between Steve and him, not sure if he should reach out or not, still unsure of what to expect.

“Falling for you was as natural as leaves falling from trees in fall. I… not because of who you are. And I’m grateful for what you do for me and Benni. But even if you didn’t, I would still feel the same. Warm, safe and protected.”

Steve reached for the hand Tony put between them, covering it with his own and he thanked Tony for what he said. “It… it wasn’t always about this. I just wanted you safe. And happy. The feelings came later, much later, and I—I was never going to tell you,” he said with a sad laugh. 

“So…” Tony started and looked down at their hands. “It’s okay? The way I feel about you?” 

Steve startled. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because of who I am. And who you are. And because...” He sighed heavily. “I have no experience.” Before getting out of the situation he was in, he had no life. And it had never bothered him until he realized what he missed out on. 

“I…” He was so confused. “Tony,” he finally decided on after much thought, “when James was here and you saw us together… he told me he’s still in love with me,” he explained, slowly, wanting Tony to get every word so he understood why Steve was startled by him asking those questions. “He left and you haven’t seen him since because I didn’t return the feeling. Because I’m in love with someone else and he knew it. He knew it before I did, I think.” He was watching Tony, waiting for a reaction, still holding his hand.

“I... can’t compare to James.” He laughed sadly. “Why me, Steve?” 

“I’m not trying to compare you to James. I’m trying to tell you that the more I got to know you, saw you take care of Benni, get up every day despite what you were going through, come see me and barely even flinch at being brought before a mob boss… I _admire_ you.” He moved closer, taking Tony’s hand with both of his now. “You’re strong and you’re loyal and you’re smart. And despite me deserving no less, you didn’t treat me like some heartless, bloodthirsty person. You were respectful but not fearful, kind not superficial, and you were concerned _about_ me. That’s… you’re just…” He trailed off, too much to say about Tony and too little time. He reached out with one hand to cup his cheek, his thumb stroking across his face. “I love you, Tony.” 

Tony listened and watched, repeating every word in his head Steve had said about him, leaning into Steve’s touch. He let go of Steve’s hand to move closer and wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, sitting on his lap. “Who you are and what you do are two different things,” he said and kissed him passionately. “I love you too, Steve.” He kissed him again. 

Steve was surprised when Tony made his way into his lap but he adjusted quickly, holding him while Tony reassured him of the humanity he often felt he’d lost. 

Hearing Tony say those words was like Christmas and every other holiday and happy moment Steve had ever had in his life all bundled up into five words. He kissed him back, never able to get enough of the taste he’d been craving for months. 

When Steve broke the kiss he dropped his forehead against Tony’s and he laughed. “I never thought this would happen. I feel like the luckiest man in the world.” There were things they’d need to talk about—Benni, how the relationship would work exactly, boundaries (where it was safe to be themselves, when and with whom)—but they could get to that another day when things could get serious again. Right then and there Steve just wanted to kiss Tony and revel in the fact that he loved him back.

“That’s my line,” Tony said chuckling softly and kissing Steve until he was desperate for air and even then it was difficult to pull away from him. Being that close to Steve, kissing him, having heard those words...Tony felt hot, his head was spinning and so he pressed closer to Steve. “Steve,” he said, his voice deep and low. “I…” He pressed his lips together and took a shaky breath. “Touch me,” he said.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting that. The effect his words had on Steve were profound and he shuddered. He reached around, his hand untucking Tony’s shirt and snaking up his back, the skin there hot and soft and Steve’s mouth moved to Tony’s neck. 

“Like this,” he breathed against his collar, nipping lightly.

Tony hummed, enjoying Steve’s hands on his body. He moved his hands over Steve’s back. He had no idea what he was supposed to do or what would make Steve happy but that was a worry for another day. He would ask him.

“Yes, but... more. Please,” he mumbled. 

Steve listened, his hand moving high up on Tony’s thigh, squeezing. Tony had put on weight since living with Steve but even still, he could almost get his hand around his thigh and there was something about that that really got to Steve. 

He moved his hand up, palming him through his trousers and Tony's reaction was absolutely gorgeous. Steve grunted, squeezing briefly and releasing. He tilted his head back to look at Tony, catching his open mouth in a kiss. 

Tony didn’t know if he had any expectations at all but if he had, this was much better than anything he could have come up with by himself. He bit down on his lip, effectively biting back his moans, and clinging to Steve while he felt his hand on him. Even through the layers of clothing he felt the warmth of Steve’s hand, making him moan into the kiss. 

Tony was hard and that thought drove Steve crazy. Tony’s body was reacting this way to _Steve_. Steve moved his hand, doing his best to make sure Tony was enjoying it, and then before he even realized what was happening he was picking Tony up and carrying him out of the study, kissing him softly. 

Thankfully his door at the end of the hall was open so he pushed it open with his back and then shut it behind him, locking it, holding Tony to him. 

He lowered him onto the bed, softly as possible, his head on Steve’s pillow and Steve got rid of his own shirt and then unbuttoned Tony’s. He leaned down, pressing hot and heavy kisses all over his chest and stomach, down to his trousers and then he was looking up at Tony for permission, his fingers waiting to snap open the button and finish undressing him.

Steve knew exactly what he was doing and that thought alone was making everything hotter for Tony. His skin felt like it was on fire and being apart from Steve made everything worse. Through heavy lidded eyes he looked at Steve, to that gorgeous man who was busy getting rid of unnecessary pieces of clothing. He nodded to him when he finally understood what Steve was waiting for, finding his hands useless and way too heavy to do anything other than roam over Steve’s upper body. 

Steve popped the button on Tony’s pants and tugged them down, easily lifting his legs to completely discard them onto the floor and then he leaned down and planted more kisses on the inside of Tony’s thighs, the skin there burning hot and Tony writhed under Steve’s touch. He held a thigh in each hand, squeezing, his fingers digging in but he released a little when he thought about what he was doing. Perhaps rough sex wasn’t for someone just getting away from years of physical abuse. 

Steve tugged down his underwear and tossed them to the floor next, pushing Tony’s legs apart and taking a moment to admire the beauty before him from head to toe. He dipped his head again, teasing, kissing around and below and then direct contact and Tony seemed to like that. Steve chuckled, moving back briefly to remove his own trousers, reaching down to give himself a little love. 

He moved back to Tony, his hands on either thigh again, and he went down, taking all of him. 

There wasn’t a single thought left in Tony when Steve kissed him and wrapped his lips around him. He gasped and moaned, moving into the heat. All he could do was moan, his hands in Steve’s hair as he moaned his name. When he managed to open his eyes a little—curiosity winning as he wanted to see Steve—he felt even more overwhelmed by his feelings and the heat. 

Tony tasted better than Steve could have imagined and the fact that he couldn’t keep still, bucking into Steve’s mouth and moaning his name, made the whole experience that much better. Steve just wanted his first time as memorable and enjoyable as possible. He knew Tony wouldn’t last long, not only because he was inexperienced but because Steve was just about an expert by now. 

Steve met his eyes when Tony looked down and Steve moaned around him, making Tony almost convulse. He did it again and Tony’s fingers dug into the bedding. Steve was helping himself almost as much as he was Tony, unable to remember a time when he was this turned on. 

Tony came not long after into Steve’s mouth and he didn’t waste a single bit of it, swallowing in earnest, unthinkingly slapping Tony’s thigh which only made Tony push into Steve’s mouth one more time. 

Steve pulled off of him but kept kissing and licking around him as Tony was coming down, and only a few minutes later, Steve himself came, quicker than he had in years and it was so good watching Tony watch him. 

Steve tucked himself back into his underwear and went to his bathroom to get a damp towel. He cleaned himself first in the bathroom and then got another towel and took it out to clean the spent and panting Tony. He was still lying there breathing hard, fully naked, and if Steve wasn’t careful, he’d be hard again soon. 

He cleaned Tony off and then put his underwear back on him, crawling onto the bed beside him. He lifted him easily again to pull the blanket from underneath him to cover them both up. Steve propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at Tony. 

“You alright?” He asked, leaning to kiss his cheek. He knew he was good at what he did but he still needed to make sure that Tony felt as satisfied as possible. He would take things slow with him, as slow as Tony needed or wanted. 

As soon as he could he snuggled up on Steve, breathing in his soothing scent, feeling his body, the warmth and how firm he felt. He was taken care of in every way possible. The realization of that in combination with Steve’s question made him chuckle softly. How had he managed to survive this long without Steve? 

He pulled away to be able to look at Steve, smiling at him lovingly. 

“How could I not be,” he asked and kissed Steve's chest, unable to move more than that. There was some guilt over the thought that he hadn't been able to help Steve. “Are you?” He asked. 

Steve held Tony in his arms even as he pulled away gently to answer him and ask his own question. “More than you know,” he said with a smile, kissing him again. It was so freeing. He could kiss Tony. He could hold him and hug him and tell him he loved him and Tony wouldn’t run or freak out or hate him for it. In fact, he loved him _back_. 

“Is it okay if I stay with you tonight?” Tony asked, closing his eyes while listening to Steve’s breathing. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” was the simple reply.

Even though he didn’t want to, Tony fell asleep soon after and it was the best sleep he had in years.

Tony dreamt of Howard, the night on which he had been so scared for his life, saying goodbye to his brother. The dream shifted and he saw Steve who held him securely against his chest, making Tony look smaller than he was. And then he heard his sister call his name and wave at him. He knew it was a dream because she was laughing and smiling, which she rarely ever did. Behind her was their mother, her hands resting on Daniella’s shoulders. Her mouth opened and she was saying something, but before the words could reach Tony, he woke up.

Steve was still holding him in his arms and seemed to be fast asleep. Tony moved a hand to rest right above Steve’s heart feeling the _thump thump_. Heartless and bloodthirsty? He thought back to seeing Howard at the hospital. Thin, wounded, tired. James and Steve had done that. Neither of them had explained why they did that to him. Even so Tony knew that it was because of what Howard had done to him. 

The Russian mob was unforgiving while the Irish protected their community. Both of their leaders reacted promptly when Sarah gave them things to do. _The way a man talks about his mother and treats her tells you more than you need to know_ , was something Maria had always told Tony and he found those words to be true, especially with Steve. 

He looked up at Steve’s face which he could barely make out in the dark but enough to make out his features. He combed through Steve’s hair gently and leaned up to kiss his cheeks like he wanted to do when Sarah sent him to wake Steve. Now he could. In the darkness of his locked room.

When Steve finally woke up, he remained still as a statue. He didn’t want to wake Tony just yet. He wanted to watch him sleep, live for a bit in this miracle that was Tony asleep in his arms, in love with him and happy about it. 

Steve studied his face in the faint morning light. There was not a lot more for him to notice than he already had. He’d taken plenty of opportunities to carefully examine his features. His dark lashes that perfectly framed his eyes, his soft pouty lips, his dark slightly curly hair and that smile. That smile that made Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d fallen for Tony but he also couldn’t remember what it was like before he felt this way, and, more importantly, he couldn’t imagine a life without him. 

He flexed to pull Tony in closer to him so he could nuzzle his nose into his hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He didn’t ever want to forget that smell. 

Tony stirred in his arms, waking up. 

“Good morning, love,” Steve said softly, pressing his lips repeatedly into Tony’s hair and hugging him tight. He exhaled and released him enough to see his face.

Tony didn’t know when he had fallen asleep again but he woke up to the most amazing man. It was still real and he was still holding him. He blushed when Steve called him ‘love’ hiding his face in his chest and mumbling a soft, “Good morning”. 

“Did you sleep much?”

Tony hummed, not knowing if he’d be able to speak. It was too good to be true. “You?” He mumbled, still hiding his face. 

Steve loved this soft version of Tony who pressed his face against Steve’s chest and mumbled happily. “Like a baby,” he answered with a chuckle. Steve remembered kissing Tony and of course the whole night but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out until now. 

There were a million things on Tony’s mind —things they would need to talk about, which he wasn’t looking forward to at all— but he decided to ignore those thoughts a little while longer. “You’re the most comfortable pillow ever,” Tony said and pulled away to look up to Steve. 

Steve laughed. “Why thank you. First time I’ve heard that,” he said, smiling down at him. He ducked to kiss him and then looked around the room, over to the bedside table. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you something? It’s been a while since I’ve stayed the night with someone—bird or fella—I think I’m a little behind on the etiquette.” 

Tony scooted up and cupped Steve’s face. Never before did he need this much contact to someone else. “I have nothing to compare this to. Don’t worry about etiquette.” He kissed his lips and hummed. He could kiss him now... what a nice thought. “I should check on Benni soon.”

Steve nodded and sat up, pulling Tony up with him, holding him in his arms. “So,” Steve began, his voice serious now, “Ma knows, Dugan and James and Dmitri who’s close to James all know. As far as this house goes, you do with me what you like but how will Benni feel?”

Tony looked at his eyes in the dim light and nodded. He liked his new home better and better. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “He loves you and he loves it here. I don’t... I don’t think he’ll mind.” Tony took a moment to think about it before he continued. “I’ll talk to him alone at first, if that is alright with you?” 

Steve agreed. That was fine for him, it was Tony’s brother after all. “I knew Benni _liked_ me but I didn’t… I didn’t expect more. That’s nice to know.” He smiled to himself. He did love that kid. 

Tony smiled brightly, his nose wrinkling as he did. “You sound so surprised,” he laughed softly, one hand back to combing through Steve’s hair. “He admires you and your strength. He keeps asking Dugan and Jones to tell him stories about your time in the war.”

“Really?” Steve asked, sounding even more surprised. “Huh.” Steve wasn’t much around kids but he liked them. He knew _how_ to be around them. Still he didn’t often find many situations that put him and children in the same room and for the most part, he was grateful. 

Slowly, so slowly and reluctantly, Steve began sliding out of the bed. He needed to get ready for work. He had an actual thing to do this morning. He turned to Tony. “You mind if I tell ma?” 

“If you’d like, you can ask Benni directly. He would love to ask you more. I told him not to.” When Steve got up, Tony sat up as well but got distracted by Steve’s barely dressed figure in front of him. “Hm? Oh, of course not.” He shook his head but stayed in place. “Do you think she’ll mind? That... it’s me?”

“Tony,” he said, half-sighing, half-disbelieving, “if I didn’t want to be ‘bothered’ by you lot—your words, not mine—I wouldn't have brought you into my home,” he said. “Of _course_ he can ask me whatever question pops into that adorable head of his.” Steve stretched, cracking his joints as Tony spoke again and then he laughed but it was shy and his face went red. “She, uh, she’s known for a while how I feel about you. I think she’ll be more relieved than anything else.” He smiled at Tony. “And it goes without saying that she loves you too.” 

Tony moved his lips, wanting to say something but he didn’t. There was a difference between taking care of Benni and him and Tony being together with her son. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. 

“Alright…” he said with a small smile and got up to collect him things that were all over the floor. Remembering last night made him forget about his other worries for now. “I really should go to the little one,” he mumbled and could feel how hot his ears were. 

Steve knew he wasn’t happy with that answer. He could see the worry in his face. Tony wasn’t hard to read once you got used to his expressions and mannerisms but Steve knew nothing he could say would change how he felt. He’d have to see Sarah’s reaction for himself. 

He watched Tony get out of bed in nothing but his underwear and he hummed in appreciation, chewing his bottom lip. He didn’t want Tony to feel like he was just something to be looked at so he dropped his gaze and started finding his clothes for the day, opening the large closet and going through shirts. “Alright,” he said, “I hope he’s doing alright this morning.” 

With his clothes on his arm Tony walked over to Steve and put his free hand on his shoulder to make him turn around. “I really _do_ love you,” he said softly. “I was scared you’d hate me if you knew… it’s... a lot to get used to right now. Bear with me?”

“Hate you?” He said. “Why on earth would I ever hate you?” 

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek but forced himself not to look away. 

“Because of who I am... because I wouldn’t even be here without you...”

“Tony, you said yesterday you don’t think I’m heartless and bloodthirsty but you think I’m _shallow_? That I wouldn’t want someone who comes from the same upbringing as myself?” He wasn’t angry, he was confused and hurt that he had given Tony that impression. 

“Not shallow,” Tony said quickly. “You’re so much stronger than me. You got yourself out. And yet you’re not judging me... I just... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He couldn’t look at Steve knowing he had said something wrong. He dropped his hand and wanted to leave, hide. Something. But not ruin what he had with Steve. 

Oh Steve hated to see that look in Tony’s eyes and he would have to be more careful about his temper he realized. “Don’t apologize. Telling me how you feel is never something to apologize for. That’s on me,” he told him, pulling him closer and holding him so he wouldn’t go anywhere. “Sure, I got myself out but I did so with violence and crime and cheating. I may have made a somewhat honest organization out of it but it sure as hell didn’t start that way. I took all that rage I had in me, found others who felt the same and we beat the shit out of people who we said were more wrong than us. Tony, I saw that you were saving up. You were going to get yourself _and_ Benni out of there without ever having to lift a hand to anyone. I didn’t do that. I’m not better than you in any way. I told you last night, I _admire_ you.” 

“It doesn’t matter where it started. You could have gone with what you had. But instead you made improvements and helped people.” He looked at him again despite the feeling of embarrassment and shame about the money on the floor, next to the two pieces of paper Steve had given him. He had seen that. Why did that thought make Tony’s eyes fill with tears? “I’m stubborn like that. It was giving up or stealing and saving whatever I could.” He leaned back against Steve and took a shaky breath. 

Steve kissed him, reaching up to wipe a thumb underneath each eye. “Oh no, love, don’t cry,” he said gently, not understanding what he did but it didn’t matter. If it made Tony cry, it was wrong. “I made improvements, sure. At ma’s request,” he admitted. “She helped me. James helped me. I’m helping you and there’s nothing wrong with that and it doesn’t make you any less of a person or someone worth lovin’. I should know.” He smiled at him and said, “I can’t imagine ever lovin’ you less but everyday I love you a little bit more.” He tilted his head up and kissed him and it was passionate and full of love and like last night’s kisses, speaking for him instead of words. 

Tony was about to say something about how Sarah didn’t make requests but he didn’t get to do that. Instead Steve showered him in love, held him and made Tony question how he worried in the first place. 

They pulled away from each other and Tony felt as if he was floating. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You… are amazing.” He smiled just before the clock made them realize what time it was. “I’ll see you later.” 

He quickly kissed Steve again and made his way to his own bathroom to get ready for the day. 

Luckily Benni wasn’t awake yet when Tony entered his room to wake the boy and get him ready as well. He knew that Benni was capable of taking care of himself but he also wanted to make sure the boy knew that Tony was still always there for him. 

Downstairs he could hear Sarah and Steve talk and it made Tony tense. When he entered Steve looked ready to head out which meant he’d leave Sarah, Tony and Benni alone at breakfast. Steve turned around and greeted them as he always did, winking at Tony quickly and leaving the kitchen with big and fast steps. 

“Good morning, _a ghrá_.” She smiled as she always did and hugged Benni, greeting him in Gaelic. It was a morning like every other morning ever since they got there but Tony wasn’t sure if it was the calm before the storm or not. He remembered Sarah telling him that her priority was her son. Steve was his priority too and he would tell her that. If he ever managed to speak again. 

“Everything alright?” Sarah asked and rubbed Tony’s shoulder which made him flinch for the first time in weeks. 

“Sorry,” he said and got up. “Just lost in thought.” He could see that it didn’t convince her but he didn’t know what else to say. Instead he helped her clear the table and then left the house with Benni who was heading to school with two of his new friends he had made. Once they were gone Tony headed back inside and went to the office to get started with his day. Working with numbers kept him from thinking too much about other things and he liked that quite a bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is far from the end but thank you so much to all those of you who read, regularly comment and especially to those who have been reading since we posted chapter 1. You know who you are and we are so appreciative of people like you! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a letter. Tony tells Benni. Steve tells Sarah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mo dhia (Gaelic) - My god  
> Tesoro - Tony will explain  
> Tu hail il mio cuore - you have my heart

“Listen,” Jones said slowly, “Cap needs to know about these.” 

“I’ll handle it,” Dugan said dismissively, stomping his cigarette out on the sidewalk. 

“Right, sure ya will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Gabe? Got somethin’ta say? Say it.”

“If you’d handled it the last time you said you’d handle it, we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation, now would we?” 

Dugan gave him a look and then spat on the sidewalk. “I’m handling it.” 

“What is it anyway?”

“If it was supposed to be any of your business, you’d know by now,” he told him, heading back inside and Jones followed a few moments later, rolling his eyes. Cap was going to skin them when he realized that whatever it was, was still not being taken care of. 

Steve got in the car with Dugan, whistling a tune—the song they’d first danced to from last night—and Dugan adjusted the mirror to look at him. 

“You started drinking already?” 

Steve laughed. “No, it’s just a good mornin’ is all. You need to start?” He was looking at the bags under Dugan’s eyes and downward pull of his mouth; the way his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone a worrying shade of pale.

Dugan looked out the window and then said, “More letters came.” 

Steve’s entire disposition changed. His bright eyes going dark and the desire to whistle lost. “I thought you said you handled that, Dugan.” 

“I thought I had.” 

“You know I’m not fond of loose ends or half-assed work,” Steve said, his voice dangerously low. He would never hurt Dugan, he couldn’t imagine it, but friends or not, Dugan worked for him and he needed to do his job right. 

“I know, Cap. My apologies. I’ll fix it.” 

“You better. You get one more letter, you put a bullet in him.” 

When they came back from their visit to the Chinese—Steve wasn’t pleased with the heroin being dealt in his neighborhoods—he had blood on the sleeve of his crisp white shirt. One of Gao’s men had made the mistake of putting a hand on him and before Dugan could make a move, Steve knocked him on his ass and broke his nose. The others had backed away and Gao apologized. 

He came into his office and found Tony there, bringing in reports, Falsworth with him as he always was, pretending that he was running the books and Tony was just his lackey who carried the documents. 

Steve came in, angry and annoyed, and was grateful for it because then he wouldn’t make the stupid mistake of grinning up at Tony who looked absolutely wonderful in his suit. He wouldn’t wink at Tony or try to kiss him or hug him like he wanted because he was pissed. 

“Cap, we—”

“You,” he said, sitting down in his chair after having removed his jacket. He was still in the shirt, not planning on changing anytime soon. “Already have a job to do, don’tcha, Dugan?” He wasn’t looking up, instead he was focused on the reports Tony was placing in front of him, running the numbers through his head and comparing them to what he remembered from last month’s. He may not have been a math whiz but he had a mind like a steel trap, few things ever slipped his memory. 

“Yessir,” he said, ducking out of the room. Falsworth watched him leave, an eyebrow raised asking a silent question, which Steve ignored and declined to answer. 

“Falsworth leave, Tony can explain these to me on his own. I’ll send him down later.” Falsworth did as he was told, more than sensing Steve’s bad mood, and closed the door behind him. 

Tony watched their interaction and was fully prepared to leave and give them room to talk. Instead he found himself alone with Steve and that was much better. 

A minute later and Steve leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and sighing. 

“ _Mo dhia_ ,” Steve complained, dragging a hand down his face. He reached for Tony’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come here,” he said, tugging him down for a kiss and then letting him go.

Tony would continue to be careful but he stayed close to Steve and took his hand, noticing the blood and bruising around his knuckles. Since he didn’t see any wounds on him he wouldn’t mention it, knowing full well that it wasn’t his place. 

“Bad day?” Tony asked softly, still holding Steve’s hand. “Anything I can do for you, _tesoro?”_ If he asked, he’d tell him the meaning—the thought alone making Tony blush—but it was probably clear.

Steve pulled Tony’s hand to his face. “No,” he said softly, “no, this is enough.” He brushed Tony’s knuckles along his cheek, closing his eyes. He turned his face quickly to press his lips to his hand and sighed. 

He looked up at Tony and smiled, just a small thing. Something private and just for him. “How are you doing?” It was almost three in the afternoon and Steve was hating that he hadn’t seen Tony all day.

He moved to kiss Steve’s forehead in response. “Got some stuff done. Falsworth managed to make disgusting coffee even though he did everything I told him to do.” He tried to tell Steve something that would make him smile. “Done with the numbers for the week. That’s it…”

Steve chuckled and then glanced up at Tony, worried. “Do you have anything else to do? I can find you something else.” He didn’t want Tony to have nothing to do because then he’d be bored and he didn’t want him to go home because then Steve would kill someone. 

“Not right now.” He shrugged and caressed his cheek softly. “Don’t worry about me. I’m helping around.”

“I don’t want you to be bored… or go home,” he told him quietly. 

“I won’t leave here if you don’t want me to,” Tony promised.

Steve pushed his chair back and pulled Tony over to sit in his lap and he hugged him, burying his face against Tony’s upper arm. “I ever tell you how good you look in a suit?”

“Steve... when you do things like that and… say that…” His voice trailed off, too embarrassed to say those words, to say how Steve affected him.

Steve pulled back, an eyebrow raised in curious surprise. He glanced down and then back up at Tony, chuckling, his cheeks red. He was smirking when he spoke. “I… was unaware I had such a profound affect on you.” He let go of him and sat back, giving him the option to stand if he wanted.

“Well, _it is_ your fault,” he gave back shyly and kissed him before getting up. “I know there’s a lot we have to figure out. Especially me. Will you show me?” He asked with a sly smirk.

Steve nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking, turning to Tony, both eyebrows raised and he laughed. “So you can say that but I can’t compliment your looks?” He wiped his handkerchief across his mouth and then said, “‘Course I will. But slowly. There’s no rush, love.”

He licked his lips and shrugged. Just because he had no experience didn’t mean he didn't have fantasies. “I’ll go make sandwiches. Jones asked for them.” He leaned in and kissed his neck right under his ear. “Or else I’ll have to take half the day off,” he whispered and winked at him as he walked to the kitchen, swaying his hips an unnecessary amount. 

“Yeah, you go take yourself to the kitchen, ya tease,” he said, watching Tony walk off and boy, did he like watching him leave, especially given that he was putting on a little show for Steve with those illegal hips of his. Steve shook his head and looked down to give the documents one final read-through before getting up to file them away. 

When he was sure Tony was gone and wouldn’t be back for a moment, he opened his drawer and pulled out one of the letters, reading over it. He felt the slightest twinge of fear and then he pulled out a box of matches and burned it, holding it in his hand until only a corner remained and he blew it out, tossing it into the trash.

Tony helped around with some files after lunch, burning some that needed to be destroyed and reorganizing the others. It was easy work but it kept Tony somewhat busy from staring at Steve and thinking about him in the most inappropriate ways. Steve kept his normal unreadable face throughout the day but Tony started seeing nuances in his face. 

The way his lips twitched, the way his eyes seemed to grow colder, the way his jaw clenched sometimes. And then other times when he looked at Tony for just a second and their eyes met. 

Together they headed to the basement once Steve was done for the day. They entered the passage and Tony stopped him once the door was closed behind them. He was glad to see that Steve seemed to have planned the same thing as him, closing the gap between them and kissing Tony passionately. Even though Tony had the same thing in mind, he still let out a small surprised sound into the kiss. 

They pulled away, not saying a word but simply smiling at each other before they made their way to their home where they were greeted by Sarah as soon as she noticed them. Tony left them to each other to go and change. 

“There you are,” Benny said as soon as Tony’s door closed behind him. 

“Hello, little one.” Tony smiled and hugged his brother. Slowly he finally let himself feel at home and safe. He’d still see Howard, still feel like he was killing him over and over again. The most important thing was that they got out of there and were given a completely different life—Tony more than Benni. Tony checked his watch. There was quite some time before dinner. 

“Will you help me with my homework before dinner?” Benni asked and tugged on Tony’s tie playfully. 

Tony nodded. “Sure. Let me get changed and I’ll be there in a minute.” That would give him time to think of things to say. He wasn’t worried about how his brother would react nor was he worried if he would understand it. Knowing his brother the way he did, he knew it would be fine. With that thought he went to his brother’s room and found Steve standing in his doorway, talking to the boy. 

“That was fast,” Steve said while Tony adjusted his simple grey shirt. 

“Or you just took your sweet time. I'll take homework duty tonight. Come get me once dinner is ready?” Tony asked, looking at Steve. Still in his suit but now way more relaxed, he looked even more handsome. Steve nodded and closed the door behind him. 

First they did Benni’s homework. He didn’t need Tony’s help and when Tony went over it, he couldn’t find a single mistake, which filled him with even more pride. 

“You’ve gotten so much better at everything, _cucciolo_. What’s your favorite subject these days?”

Benni thought about it while he put everything away neatly and then turned to Tony and shrugged. “I just like learning.”

“That’s good,” Tony said and moved to rest a hand on Benni’s small face. He had grown a lot since they had gotten there but his face still looked like always. Though now it was rounder and fuller, his skin smoother and not pale anymore. 

“Come, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said and went to his room with Benni. He took his time to look at his brother and really see the changes from before. Even the way the boy walked had changed. No longer slouching or taking small, anxious steps. 

They sat down on the couch in front of the windows and looked out for a minute, watching people and cars. 

“Benni?” Tony asked to get his brother’s attention. “Steve and _zia_ Sarah are our family now, you understand that, right?” Benni nodded, looking back outside with a smile. “ _Look at me, little one_ ,” Tony said softly and Benni sat down to look at his brother like he had asked. “ _You’re not so little anymore, are you? Do you mind if I still call you that?_ ”

“ _I like being your little brother.”_

“ _You’re growing so much. I’m so proud of you, you know that, right?”_ Benni nodded, his smile even brighter. “ _There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I love you so much._ ”

“I know but we’re safe here, right? There’s nothing that will happen to us anymore.”

“We’re safe, yes. Bad things will still happen, whether we like it or not.”

“I know,” Benni said. “But it’s warm here and safe and our home.” There was that unexpected maturity in his little brother. 

“Yes, exactly.” He smiled and sighed in relief. Benni would be fine, no matter what. “ _I’m in love with Steve, little one, and I want to be with him._ ” Tony could see the confusion but gave him a moment to ask if he wanted to. 

“Like in the movies? Where they kiss in the end?” He tilted his head and Tony nodded. “Why?” The innocence in that question was the most beautiful thing he could have imagined. 

“You don’t like girls yet, do you?”

“Yuck, no!” 

Tony bit the inside of his cheek in order not to laugh. He wanted Benni to know that he took him seriously. 

“But you know that usually girls like boys and the other way around?”

“Yeah.” Again Benni sounded disgusted and shook his head. 

“It’s like that with Steve and me. Only that we’re both men.” He waited for a reaction to that but Benni just blinked at him, expecting more. “Do you understand that?”

“Not really,” Benni admitted. 

“I don’t like girls, Benni. I’m not like most men.” He paused for a moment. “It’s frowned upon and if anyone knew we could be in trouble, Steve and I.”

“Because you kiss?”

“Yes, because we have feelings for each other.” 

“That’s weird. Why would you get in trouble for kissing but Howard can hurt you and yell at us?”

Tony snorted and shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know.”

“Howard should have gotten into trouble. Just because kissing is disgusting you shouldn’t!”

“Kissing is disgusting, eh? I’ll remind you of that when you have your first steady.” Tony grinned and pinched his brother playfully, making him squeal and giggle. “Or, you know, a boy steady. Your feelings are your feelings. And I’ll tell you what _Mama_ told me. It’s no one’s business what anyone feels because love is always worth fighting for. And to me, Steve is worth that, even if we do get in trouble one day.”

“So, no one can know? Just me?”

“And _zia_ Sarah.” Tony added with a nod. 

“I swear I won’t tell anyone.” Benni scooted closer and held his pinky finger up to Tony, which he accepted. Afterwards Tony pulled him in for a tight hug and kissed the top of his head. 

“ _Thank you so much,”_ he whispered softly, squeezing his brother. “ _Not many people will be as kind and loving as you, Benni. Never change that about yourself, okay?_ ”

“ _I promise.”_ Benni hugged his brother back tightly. “I don’t have to see you kiss Steve, do I?” 

That question mixed with the relief he felt over having told Benni, made Tony laugh genuinely.

“No, you won’t. But it’ll be better if you learn to knock and wait for an answer before coming into my room.”

“I can do that.” Benni pulled away from his brother. “I like that you smile so much now.” He got up, as if his words were nothing special or didn’t carry a lot of baggage. “I’ll go downstairs to _aintín_. Will you come with?”

“I’ll see where Steve is and then we’ll come down too,” Tony said and watched Benni leave the room. Just as the door closed, there was a faint knock on it. “Yes?”

Benni grinned and said “ _I love you, orsetto. I’ll make sure you don’t get in trouble._ ” Before Tony could answer, Benni left again and closed the door. Tony couldn’t help but notice how his mother and Benni were so alike. For a second he could have sworn that it was Maria who had smiled at him. And just like their mother, Benni was endlessly kind and loving, despite everything. 

After a few minutes alone Tony got up and knocked on Steve’s door, hoping he was still there. To his surprise Steve did open the door.

“Hello,” Tony greeted him and almost immediately Steve pulled him inside and pushed him against the closed the door to kiss Tony passionately. He smiled into the kiss, wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him back just the same. 

“So?” He finally asked after almost running out of breath kissing him. Steve still felt a sense of urgency when it came to being with Tony. He knew he was safe inside the house, it wasn’t that, it was more of a distinct and stabbing fear that Tony would snap out of this and decide it was disgusting and that Steve was too. He had to use every opportunity because he had an irrational fear that someday he would run out of them. “How did he take it?” 

Steve wanted to tell Sarah but he figured he would wait until Tony had told Benni, one hurdle at a time. Even though he didn’t expect his mother to be a hurdle, one at a time was still better. He couldn’t even begin to think about how/if things with James would change when/if he finally came back into Steve’s life.

Tony kept his arms around Steve, wanting him close. “Like the best little brother in the world,” he said with a smile. “He thinks kissing is disgusting though.”

Steve laughed, momentarily forgetting all about his troubles. “Is it?” He kissed him again. “Hadn’t noticed. Let me just—” Another kiss “—confirm that.” Two more kisses. “He may have a point, ya know, but I’ll need a lot more test trials to be sure.” He grinned down at him but looked towards the clock on the wall that chimed. “We should probably get down for dinner before ma comes burstin’ in here. I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

Tony chuckled at the small kisses and hummed in approval. “I volunteer as test subject for many kisses.” There were definitely worse things than kissing Steve. “I honestly thought you did.” Slowly and reluctantly he let go of Steve. “Will we stick to spending time together after dinner?”

Steve smiled wide, catching his lips again. “We will stick to it. I gave ya my word. That means somethin’ to me.” He pulled Tony in for one more hug and then let him go. “Well, I had some work things to do this mornin’, didn’t have time to sit down for a proper chat. I’ll talk to her after dinner and then we can have our time.”

Secretly Tony was relieved Steve didn't ask him to be there when he told Sarah. All he wanted was to curl up on Steve and kiss him and maybe more. 

“Alright,” he took Steve’s hand and walked with him downstairs, only letting go before they reached the kitchen. The table was set and Sarah was serving everyone already before they had even reached the dining table. 

Steve watched his mother, familiar with her expressions and mannerisms. Dinner went off without a hitch and afterwards, as he helped clear the table he turned to her. 

“ _Ma, can we talk? In private_?” She looked over at him, concerned but she nodded and he headed for the study, closing the doors behind him. 

He gestured for her to take a seat on the couch and he poured her a drink—whiskey on the rocks, exactly two ice cubes, and a slice of orange on the rim, which he cut for her. He handed it to her and she thanked him but didn’t trust whatever was happening. 

“What’ve you done?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. He chuckled. “The last time you were this nice, you’d thrown that brick through Mr Reynold’s window.” 

“Are either of you ever going to let me live that down?” She laughed and shook her head but grabbed his hand. 

“What’s going on, pet?” 

He sighed. “It’s Tony.” She was laughing again and it confused Steve. He tilted his head to the side, waiting, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Alright, what is it?” 

She was wiping tears from her eyes. “If you think I don’t know, then you must think I’m _deaf_ too. I don’t know what you two were doing but that boy is _not_ quiet.” 

Steve’s ears were so hot he worried his hair might catch fire and his face was quickly catching up temperature-wise. He dropped his gaze, unable to meet her eyes and she let go of his hand to hold his chin, tilting it up to look at her. 

“Oh, come now, Steven, I don’t remember ever teaching you to drop your head in shame like that,” she said sternly, and he met her eyes, blue like his but even firmer, even more stubborn and unrelenting, wiser. 

“I know what you think—”

“Do you? Alright then, come on. Tell me my mind, lad.” Her hand had moved from his face to rest on his shoulder and her expression was a little frustrated now, just a little though. 

“It’s not right. I’m wrong for what I’m doing.” 

“Now you see I’m going to stop you right there, Steven, because that thought hasn’t passed through my mind in years. Not towards you anyway.” She cleared her throat. “Do I think he’s a wee bit young? Yes. But am I worried that he’s too young for you? Yes, but not how you think. I just want you to have someone you click with, pet. Someone who understands you and there’s a wee bit of a generational gap between you two is all but as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I don’t want you settling just for anyone because you know that finding someone in your situation is rare.” 

“It’s not that rare,” he told her. “I like both. I could probably find a wife if I was lookin’ but I’m not. I love Tony.”

“And that’s good and fine. All I want to know is that he is who you choose not your only _choice_ , hear the difference?” He nodded. “Alright, grand. Anythin’ else?” 

Steve chuckled, only his mother could have handled that how she did. “He’s afraid you’ll hate him for this.” 

“He knows you’re what comes first in my life is all, I’m sure. He knows I could never hate him.” Steve wasn’t so sure but it wasn’t due to a lack of showing affection on his mother’s side, rather the negative experiences with which Tony had become so accustomed. 

“So how do you feel about it? I know you wanted me and James back together.” 

She nodded slowly. “I did and then I didn’t.” 

“What changed?” 

“You. Before Tony came into your life in the manner he is now, I knew there were still feelings in ya for James. That you still held out hope.” 

“There were. But not recently. Not in the last year or more.” 

“Maybe not feelings then, but I knew you missed what you two had. Hopping from bed to bed isn’t healthy for someone with a heart as soft as yours. I wanted you to have some stability.” He gave her a small smile. He really was her priority. “I knew James could provide that. Tony’s life at the time was turbulent at _best_.” She shrugged. “Now? Now he’s got stability and is therefore in a position to provide it.” 

“So you support it?” 

“It has my blessin’, dear boy,” she said, her hand moving to his cheek. “Only thing I ask is you keep it down or use one of the guest rooms on the other side of the hall.” Steve couldn’t help but grin, still blushing. “Has he always been…?” She didn’t know how to phrase it and they’d never really come up with a term. Most of the commonly used ones were derogatory so they avoided them. 

“No, I don’t think so and even so, he says he _only_ likes fellas.” 

“ _Only_? That’s a first. I’m so used to you and James going wherever the wind takes ya. Guess you lucked out, ay?” He nodded.

“I really did. Ma, if we could, I’d marry him,” he said seriously. It was her turn to look surprised. 

“Well if such a thing ever is possible, I’d like to walk one or both of ya down the aisle.” 

They talked a while longer about this and that, the new relationship coming up at random times and Sarah asked about Benni and Steve said he was fine with it and that she could also talk to him and Tony about it if she needed. 

When her glass was empty, she headed to the kitchen and he followed her, turning off the light in the study. They went upstairs together and he kissed her goodnight and she went to her room. 

Steve stood in the hallway, wondering which room Tony was in since the doors were closed. He knocked on Benni’s but the boy was already asleep so he closed it softly and when he turned, Tony was peeking his head out of Steve’s bedroom and Steve went in, shutting the door behind him. 

“How did it go?” Tony asked. 

“Grand. I mean that. Really,” he said, kissing him. He backed him onto the bed, hovering over him, his right hand up Tony’s shirt grasping at his chest while he kissed him. He pulled away briefly to say, “Her only condition is that we either use a guest room down the hall or we keep the noise down.” 

Steve watched Tony process his words and he nodded before realizing what it meant. Steve had already gone back to kissing him, his lips on Tony’s neck when Tony tried to sit up, horror clear on his face. 

“She _heard_ me?” 

“My fault,” he said simply, moving to Tony’s collarbone and he bit down lightly and Tony gasped. 

They didn’t end up using a guest room that night because despite everything, Steve just wanted to hold Tony and today hadn’t been the best day on record. 

They laid in Steve’s bed—because Tony’s was big but Steve’s was bigger and he had an en-suite bathroom—and Steve held Tony in his arms, his cheek over Steve’s heart, listening to the steady beat. Sometimes Tony would press a kiss to his skin and Steve’s heart would speed up for a moment.

“I still have a hard time believing this is all happening, you know?” He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes before remembering the question he had. “Hey, that name you called me earlier? In my office. What does it mean?”

Tony had his eyes closed while he listened to Steve’s heart and it took some effort for him to answer, though he did not move to look at him. 

“ _Tesoro_ ,” he said with a smile, “it means treasure.” He was not even ashamed that he given this grown man a name like that because that was exactly what he felt. Steve was his treasure and he was lucky to have found him. 

Steve was grinning like an idiot into the darkness. Tony thought he deserved the pet name _treasure_ . Tony thought of him as being treasure. “I love it.” He stroked his fingers lightly up and down Tony’s back as he spoke, a little nervous. “ _Hai il mio cuore_.”

Tony had always loved the way Steve spoke English, especially when he was tired or relaxed. Now he found he preferred his accent when speaking Italian. It was absolutely beautiful.

“ _E tu hai il mio_ ,” he replied softly. “Steve?” He asked and continued after a moment. “If there’s anything I can do to help you with your work, you’ll let me know, right?”

Steve was still grinning, somewhat proud of having made himself understood. He just hoped he wasn’t butchering the accent too much. 

“What do you mean?”

“I just want you as safe as possible. If there’s anything I can do to ensure that, tell me,” Tony said. 

“Are you talking about this?” He asked, lifting his barely bruised knuckles, the ones sprinkled with blood earlier. “This wasn’t anything. I had to meet with the Chinese. One of her men thought it smart to put a hand on me, I gently corrected him.” He hoped that was all because he couldn’t talk about the other thing and there was no way he was putting Tony anywhere within spitting distance of danger. 

Tony gently rested a hand on the back of Steve’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the bruised knuckles. “Still…” he mumbled. Steve was strong enough to take care of himself but Tony couldn’t help it. “You’re with me now. I worry about those I love.”

“I know, love, I know,” he said softly, lifting Tony’s hand to kiss it. “I have a dangerous job but I’m not gonna do anything to put myself in needless danger. I’ve got too much to come home to for that,” he promised him. 

“I can deal with that,” Tony agreed and intertwined their fingers. “Anything you want me to know? Apart from where we’re safe together?”

“Falsworth and Jones don’t know anything about this part of my life. Dugan does but let me ease him into the idea of you and me. You know we’re safe in the house and my office when we’re alone but anywhere outside? Never.” Steve wasn’t even planning on taking Tony with him on business outings, only family outings. “Anything else you _want_ to know?” 

Tony listened and nodded. Yes, that much was clear to him. He didn’t know how he felt about Dugan yet. Not that he didn't trust him. But that man was definitely unreadable to Tony. 

“Everything about you,” Tony answered casually. “You?”

Steve warmed at that but decided he would start with the unfavorable things about himself first. “In the event that anyone ever does come after me,” he said slowly, not wanting to frighten Tony, “there’s a door in my room inside the closet. It has stairs leading down and out to the back of the house where the car is parked. Ma knows this. Dugan doesn’t. You take that car and you go to James’. James has a boat and he has a helicopter and he will get you to safety. Now that’s never happened and it’s not likely to, but I want you to know in case it does. I thought I’d start with the less fun things about me.” He held him tighter in case he was afraid now.

“What about you? And what if James isn’t there?” Tony asked, not liking it one bit but also feeling rather grateful that Steve let him in on that. He had no intention of leaving Steve behind.

Steve wanted to say he wasn’t escaping. That he had no intention of running scared from anyone but he knew that wouldn’t sit well with Tony. “There’s a set of house keys in the car. Ma will be with you, she knows all the secret ins and outs of his home,” he told him. “I’ll meet you there. No one knows I live here but the guys. My address is listed as halfway across town. To keep you all safe, I have to come separately.”

Tony held onto Steve’s hand tighter now. “Promise you’ll follow?” He asked. Maybe it was his stubbornness, maybe it was his anxiety but Tony needed to hear Steve say those words. 

“I promise,” he told him honestly, hearing the fear in his voice. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and kissed Steve’s hand. It was probably very late but he didn’t feel sleepy. And now he had a lot to think about too.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pile of letters. A betrayal. Dugan is pretty damn great though.

There was a pile of letters on Steve’s desk and he sat there, staring at them, going through at least ten strategies at once. Dugan was sitting opposite of him. Tony had been asked to knock before entering but Jones had some work for him to do anyway so he was busy. 

“Says he has proof,” Dugan said. “That if I do anythin’ to him, someone else will make that proof public.” 

“Who else?” 

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to risk it.” 

Steve had a stalker. Someone he had slept with months ago. It was a couple of weeks after the act in that he began popping up, standing on street corners staring at the building, appearing where he knew Steve frequented, spending his nights at James’ brothel hoping to be chosen by Steve again but Steve had rules: never the same person twice, man or woman. He didn’t want anyone getting attached and he saw now that that was inevitable. 

He’d been sending Steve letters, love letters, some disgustingly graphic, some intimate details of Steve’s body. Things no one else could possibly know unless they’d seen him naked. 

Most of the men he slept with were happy to be paid to keep their mouths shut and then kept them shut with a little threatening from Steve. 

But not this guy. 

He was different. It was like he had been planning this from the start but he was an enemy Steve wasn’t sure how to fight. 

He wasn’t trying to take Steve down out of jealousy or hatred—he was pissed off because he was in love with Steve but Steve did not return his feelings. He just wanted Steve to notice him, to take him as a “mate”, his words not Steve’s. 

“Money won’t do it, threats won’t, nothing is working, Cap.” 

“Have you tried putting a bullet between his eyes?” Steve growled. Dugan didn’t say anything, he knew Steve was angry. Steve dragged a hand down his face. “Arrange a meet up tomorrow. 9am at Stark’s old place.” Steve wanted somewhere neutral, somewhere people wouldn’t be looking at him and wondering what they were doing. 

“Yes, Cap.” 

The next morning, after a tense night and lots of questioning from Tony about it, he stood in the deli, cracking his knuckles. The door opened, the little bells on it jingling and Steve turned to look at the man who entered. He was grinning. 

“Steve, my darling,” he said, moving towards him but Dugan put himself between them. Jones and Falsworth stood guard outside. They knew something was up but exactly what they weren’t keyed into.

“Brock,” was all Cap said. 

“You finally got my letters, sweetheart?” 

“What do you want?” 

“You, babydoll.” Steve ground his teeth together, trying not to shoot him so soon. 

“What do you have on me? What proof?”

“I got my memory, that’s for sure. You’re a hard one to forget. I couldn’t walk straight for a week afterwards,” he said, smirking. Neither Dugan nor Steve reacted. “And I’ve got my word and that’s worth a lot round these parts.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“If you weren’t, you’d have killed me by now.” Steve said nothing. “It’s not about what proof I have or don’t have. It’s about who I can get to believe—”

Steve shot him. Point blank in the head and he collapsed lifelessly on the ground. 

“Cap!” Dugan said. 

Steve nudged Brock with his foot. “I do not like being blackmailed.” 

They headed out to the car, Jones on clean up again, but the young guy supposed to be opening Steve’s door did not. He stood there at the side of the car instead. Steve gave him a withering look. 

“Have you forgotten how cars work?” Steve snarled. 

“You disgusting freak of nature,” the boy said. 

Steve reached for his gun again, not in the mood for insubordination on top of everything else. “Beg your motherfucking—“ And then another shot was fired and two more after that. The second two from Dugan’s gun through the boy’s head. The first one—

Steve pulled his hand away from his middle, his fingertips coated in red, and he staggered a little, feeling lightheaded. 

“Cap. _Steve_ , get in the car now,” Dugan said, helping him into the passenger seat and then going around to the other side, all the while shouting at Jones and Falsworth to get the other two who had run off. 

He pulled into the hospital and James had seen the familiar car pulling in from the penthouse office he at times did business in. He met them at the front door. 

“Who is in there?” He asked, unable to see into the windows as Dugan got out and moved around to the passenger seat. 

“Steve.” 

James whistled and a gurney came out. James helped put Steve on it. Once he was in a room and being checked out, James got in his own car and Dmitri took him to Sarah. Dugan now had control of a handful of James’ men to aid in the search for those two boys and anyone else who may be plotting anything against Steve, having been influenced by Brock. 

James walked in with his key and found Sarah in the kitchen and told her what happened. They walked through and got Tony from his office and all piled into James’ car, heading to the hospital.

Steve had told Tony that he had something that needed taking care of and he’d be back at the office sooner or later that day. Even though he left with his usual men who would protect Steve at all cost, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. 

Just when he had managed to distract himself he saw the door opening and there were James and Sarah. They didn’t have to say anything for Tony to put his jacket on and follow them to James’ car. Tony sat next to Sarah and held her hand. It had been months since he had last seen James and now he was simply back? Had he been gone? Had he something to do with this? What happened? Tony forced himself to continue breathing calmly, helping Sarah to the hospital. A man who looked familiar to Tony walked towards them as soon as he saw them. What was his name again? He couldn’t remember.

“He’s in surgery.”

“Where was he shot? How bad?” Tony couldn’t say who it was that asked questions at a time like this. 

“Stomach. There was a lot of blood.” The man answered and led them towards an empty room. Two men Tony had never seen before were standing in front of the door and opened it for Sarah. “It’ll take some time before we get more information.”

“Where are the others? Jones, Dugan—”

“Out,” James said and Tony turned to look at him. So they were taking care of this? How did they even let this happen? Tony sat down in the chair next to Sarah and kept holding her hand. There was nothing for them to do but sit and wait. 

Someone brought coffee for the three of them and that was it for the longest time in Tony’s life. In the back of his mind he knew no one would be there when Benni got home. Someone at the office would probably take care of him. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t get into trouble or feel bad. 

James moved and stood next to Sarah’s chair, resting his hands on her shoulders. Tony got up and offered him his seat. He’d be better at comforting Sarah than Tony seeing as he was closer to the both of them, more experienced in every way and just because he was James. 

Even to Tony Sarah looked shaken and pale. Tony snuck out but the two men asked him if he needed anything and if they should bring them food or something else.

“Something light for Sarah. And orange juice.” Before he could justify why he asked for those things, one of them left. Tony went to the bathroom and washed his face with water. The cold water helped for a second but that feeling didn’t last too long. Steve would be fine. There was no other way this would go. He simply wished there was something for him to do other than sit and wait. 

When Tony got back to the room James put an empty glass on a tray that had not been there before. Seemed that it hadn’t been his worst idea to get something for Sarah. 

He sat down on the chair left of James and Sarah and stared at the painting on the wall. A flower bouquet on a table next to a cup of coffee and a candle on the small table as well. He would be fine. Soon someone would come in and tell them that the operation went well and they could see Steve, who would be out of here in a matter of days tops. And while Tony stared at the picture, he waited for that someone to come and tell them exactly that. 

He couldn’t say how much time had passed—he had left his watch on his desk at the office—but finally the door opened and a nurse came in, telling them a doctor would be with them shortly. Barely seconds after the nurse had left, a man, putting his white coat on, came into the room. 

“He’s stable. An inch further up and we would be having a different kind of conversation. He’ll be in his room in a few minutes.” 

They went inside the room to see Steve sleep, doped up on morphine, and in a hospital gown. He looked like he was just sleeping but James knew if he lifted that gown he would see the thick white bandages. 

James wasn’t sure he was totally capable of being there when Steve came to. He turned to Tony, noticing the way his eyes were glued to Steve, seeing the way his hand twitched and how his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something to the man. James narrowed his eyes. So it had happened. 

He cleared his throat to get Tony’s attention and said, “what time does Benni get out? Will he be alright if I pick him up?” James did not want to be here. Steve would be fine. He _could_ _not_ be here. He wasn’t ready, he’d only come back because these were dire circumstances.

Tony turned to James even though he really didn’t want to. “School ends at 2.30 pm. You don’t have to go. I’m sure Steve would be glad to have you here. Benni gets home alone most of the time,” he said and saw from the corner of his eye how Sarah moved to Steve, gently holding his hand. He was okay. Pale as a ghost. But alive. 

“It’s fine. He shouldn’t be alone. None of Steve’s men will be there either. Everyone’s—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “I’ll be back.” He left the room without giving either of them the time to respond to him. He would wait for Benni to be done with school at Steve’s and bring him here and then he would check in from time to time but it still hurt to see Steve and even more now that he suspected Steve and Tony were together. 

Steve shifted, his eyes barely opening to look around the room. He couldn’t get them to focus at first and then when they finally did, he remembered what had happened. 

“ _My dear boy, we’re here,”_ Sarah said and he turned to see his mother looking worse for wear, holding his hand. Tony was behind her and Steve instantly reached for him with his other hand, wincing slightly at the pain.

“ _Where am I?”_ He asked, his brain too foggy for English. He knew he was in a hospital but he wasn’t sure which one. “ _Has it been long_?” 

“ _Just a few hours,”_ she said, glancing up at the clock. They’d brought Steve in that morning around ten. It was almost two in the afternoon now. James would be back with Benni soon. 

Steve tried to sit up. “ _It was only one shot, I don’t need all of this—_ ”

“Steven Grant Rogers, if you try to leave this bed, I’ll put you right back in one,” she threatened and he stayed down, his eyes on Tony now. 

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling. “You alright?”

“Better now,” Tony answered honestly. “But if you attempt to leave this bed, I will not hesitate to chain you to it.” He went to fill a glass with water, helping him to drink a little. “You should rest.” He pulled the blanket back up over Steve’s body. 

“Thank you,” Steve said, tugging the blanket back down, “but I don’t need to be coddled. I’ve been shot before.” He sat up again, looking at both of them in turn. “I won’t leave the bed but don’t expect me to do—“ 

James walked in, Benni on his hip. He put him down at the door and he ran over to Steve. James gave him a look, his eyes roving over Steve. He’d seen worse happen to him and he looked great already, all things considered. 

“ _Stay in the bed, Steve. You almost ended up in a coma. Dugan and I are handling it. Your family needs you more than you need revenge,”_ James said in Russian and Steve glared but nodded. James left before Steve could say anything, looking back at Tony and Sarah.

Again Tony could do nothing but watch James leave. He didn’t even get to thank him for bringing Benni. 

“ _Be careful, bambino. He’s hurt,_ ” Tony said, looking over at Sarah. He didn’t know what to do with himself or in that situation. 

Steve reached out and patted Benni’s head gently. “Hey, lad, I’m alright though, just a little hurt.” Benni’s face was sad and Steve hated that Benni had to see two people he loved in a hospital in less than one year. 

Steve looked at his mother, a question on his face but she shook her head and he sighed.

Tony watched their interaction and took Benni by his hand. 

“How about we get us all chocolate pudding?”

“Can I get two?” Benni grinned and Tony nodded, smiling at Steve before heading out of the room. 

When the boys left, Steve turned to Sarah and she spoke. 

“He didn’t say a word. Came in, said you’d been shot and that you were at the hospital. Pet, he didn’t even say what happened.” 

“He seems different, doesn’t he?” 

“Very. And I’m not sure I like it.” Steve nodded. “So… how?” 

“A fella I was with. Months ago. Brock Rumlow. He’d been a little hard to shake. Started sending letters a while back. Mostly trying to win me over and then they were threatening. To expose me. Tell everyone. I… we don’t have to worry about him anymore but I think he may have spread the word to a few lower levels,” he explained.

“Who shot you?” 

“Some kid who works for me. _Worked_. Dugan shot him.” Sarah nodded slowly. 

“How far d’ya think word has spread?” 

“I don’t know. I’m sure Dugan is weeding them out but I wouldn’t call this the end of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, if he allows it, I want you, Tony, and Benni staying with James until we can be sure either the traitors are weeded out or those who know don’t care.” Steve looked away and then back to his mother. “He won’t talk to me. Perhaps you can?” She nodded. 

“You think someone’ll try and kill you again,” she said, having to say the words out loud at least once to get it out of her system, so she could think clearly. 

“I do. If you’re looking to move up, what better way than to kill your sexually deviant boss?” Sarah gave him a look but he was too upset to back down or retract his statement. 

“Your men are too loyal to follow anyone who’d do that. They know you’re a good man.” 

“Some are, some aren’t. I’m not even sure how Falsworth and Jones will react once they inevitably find out. For some of those trigger-happy drug addicts,” he said, knowing his men were involved in much worse things than homosexuality and yet, “being what I am is the worst sin out there. I’ve heard ‘em talking enough. Saying they should bring back public execution for people like me. Burning at the stake, all that shite and in the same breath they’ll mention how they stabbed a man for not sharing his seat on a bus. Some of ‘em just need to go. It’s time.” 

Sarah didn’t say anything, too terrified for her son, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. “I’ll wait for the boys to get back and go talk to James.” 

“Thanks, ma.” 

When Tony and Benni came back, Sarah declined her pudding cup and stood, going into the hall and asking one of the guards to take her to James. He of course agreed and began walking her towards the private elevators at the end of the hall. Dmitri who was on his way to provide an update for James, dismissed the other man and took her up himself. 

She came into the office where James stood at the window looking out over the city.

“You’ve never been the quiet one. That was always Steve,” she said. Dmitri left them alone. James turned, his face blank. 

“How are you?” He asked, completely avoiding her comment. 

“I’ve seen better days.” 

“Why are you up here?” 

“To talk. Also I have a request.” 

“He wants you to stay with me? Keep you safe?” She nodded, surprised. “We’ve always had this plan in place. In case anything happens, you come to me. It’s fine.” 

“The boys as well?” 

“Of course. I don’t hold a grudge because Steve chose Tony. It’s hard, yes, but I hope he’s happy.” 

“You’re handling this very well.” 

He chuckled. “Ignoring the part where I completely removed myself from your lives for months I’m guessing?” He glanced down at some papers on his desk and then back up at her. “I’m not being cold towards Steve. You know I care and it’s not just petty heartbreak keeping me up here and not down there but I met someone,” he told her, “and I like him. But being around Steve is hard. And confusing. I’d like things with this other one to work out so I can move on and things can go back to normal.” 

“I understand,” she told him, moving in closer to pull him into a hug. “I’m not judging you. Hearts are fickle and complicated. I know you’re helping in the best way you can.” 

“They’re together now, I’m assuming.” Sarah nodded. “How long?” 

“Going on a month now.” 

“You’re positive the boy’s not just feeling like he has to?” 

“I am. Steve would know. And he would’ve asked and he’s positive himself that it is what it is.” James nodded, his arms crossed, looking out the window. 

Sarah was quiet a moment and then her expression changed from scared and worried to hard and cold. “James.” He looked over. “You do _whatever_ it takes to keep him safe.” 

James checked his pocket watch and then the papers on his desk again. The phone on the table rang and he answered, hanging up seconds later. He cracked his neck, twirling his knife between his fingers. “My ability to be in the same room as him won’t matter when I slit their throats,” James said casually, glancing up at her again, his eyes cold as ice. “No one messes with Steve.” 

“That’s what I want to hear.”

Meanwhile Tony and Benni were with Steve, the boy now in a better mood and chatting away while Tony simply looked at Steve. He set his cup down and told Benni in Italian he wanted to talk to Steve.

“ _Have you seen the city from up here? Go and look,”_ Tony said and moved to sit on Steve’s bed, carefully taking his hand. “Are you safe now? Not here. I know here it is safe for you. But… when you go home. And go back to work?”

Steve had hoped for almost any other question. _Almost_ any other but this one was pretty awful. Steve looked at Tony, squeezing his hand. “No,” he answered honestly. “Not right now. And you’re all going to stay with James like we talked about. Tony, I mean it.”

Almost immediately Tony started to tremble slightly, holding onto Steve’s hand tighter. “Okay,” he nodded. “And you will stay here until… it’s over?” Tony didn’t expect to feel this scared. This was worse than his fear of Howard which he had always kept nice and bottled up. 

Steve chewed his bottom lip, sighing, not breaking eye contact. This was so much harder than he thought it would be. “No,” he said again. “I’ll stay here another two days. Three at the most and then I have to go back. There’s… a lot I’ll need to do myself.” 

Tony nodded, pressing his lips together. Two, maybe three days he would be safe. And then he would go back out there. A single tear rolled down Tony’s cheek without him really noticing it. “You promise you’ll come after… if we have to leave,” he said with his voice low. 

“Tony, love.” He reached up with his free hand to wipe away the tear and then kept his hand on his cheek. “I promise. Nothing is more important to me than you and ma and Benni, alright? _Nothing_.” 

He leaned into the warm touch and smiled softly. It was foolish of him to think that this day would never come. Steve would be fine and in no time at all they would be home together again. 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind full-time visitors because for the next two days, I won’t leave you.”

Steve chuckled, trying to keep the mood light now that his answer seemed to satisfy him. “If they’re all as cute as you I sure won’t.”

“They’re all gonna be me. So you better not hope for anyone else, mister.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss his lips softly. 

“Hmm,” Steve said, laughing into the kiss. “You gonna check on me, huh? Like a nurse? Gonna get yourself one of them outfits?”

“Tell you what.” Tony leaned in to whisper in Steve’s ear with a seductive voice. “As soon as we’re home again, I’ll do _anything_ you want. So maybe snatch a spare outfit from here and we’ll see what happens.” Because he would be home. There was no other way this would go. Soon enough they’d be back together at home. 

Steve didn’t worry much about bleeding out because suddenly all his blood was concentrated in one area and it was confusing being aroused but in so much pain at the same time. “Talk about a welcome home,” he said, his eyes dropping to sweep up and down Tony’s body and he smirked. “Come here, gorgeous.” He reached for Tony’s shirt collar, pulling him down for a deep, hot kiss. Steve winced but kept kissing him.

As soon as he felt Steve wince he pulled away. “Easy there, Cap. There’s going to be enough time for us to kiss,” he promised, gently pushing him back into the less painful position. “I love you, Steve.” 

“Aw come on,” Steve whined playfully and then added, “oh so you’re just gonna stop kissing me and then say something to make me wanna kiss ya more? Ya absolute tease. I love you too, Tony.” He reached out for him. “One more. A small one?” He puckered his lips. 

Tony chuckled and leaned in to kiss Steve sweetly. “Now go back to resting. Everything’s taken care of and you’re paler than a glass of milk.” He was honestly worried about him. Not his safety but his well-being. 

Steve debated what he wanted to say—because what was _everything_?—and then settled on: “Alright, fine. I’ll rest. _For_ _you_.” He slid down into the bed, reaching over to the IV drip to give himself a little more morphine. He could admit that it hurt just a little. It didn’t take long for the painkillers to start to kick in and his alertness to go as he slowly started to fall asleep. “My Tony,” he said, smiling as he drifted off. 

He watched Steve drift off, still holding his hand as he did. 

“My Steve,” he whispered softly and pressed a kiss on the back of his hand. 

Right on time Sarah came in and even to Tony she looked angry. 

“He just fell asleep,” he said and she nodded. “Should we go home and get ready?” 

She nodded again. “Yes, _a ghrá._ Where’s your brother? Let’s stay together.”

Benni got up, walked right up to them, and they left, Tony explaining to Benni why they were going to stay with James. 

After a few hours at Steve’s house under heavy protection and some discussing about what Benni would truly need for his time at James’ and they were standing in front of his house being let in. 

James greeted Sarah and nodded to Tony and Benni before showing them to their rooms. Sarah seemed exhausted and she excused herself.

“I thought it would be better for you two to stay together,” James said pointing to the bed. 

“Of course. Thank you,” Tony said and Benni went right in to unpack his things. James was leaving again already. “James?” Tony asked and the man stopped but didn’t turn to look at him. “Thank you. Really.” Sarah had hinted that James was helping with whatever was going on. Not that Tony didn’t expect that but it was always nice to have some confirmation.

When it was time for dinner, James came to knock at Tony’s door and let them know. 

He said, “Dinner’s ready,” and walked off to the kitchen. 

Sarah was already in the kitchen when Tony and Benni got there. The room was filled with delicious and mouth-watering smells and the dining table was absolutely beautiful and enormous compared to what Tony had seen.

During dinner Benni asked a lot of questions about the house, what there was to do and see and what he could do when he came home from school. James had arranged for someone to pick Benni up, just to be sure and promised he would show Benni around later.

Then the boy asked about the food—beef Stroganoff—and even ate a second portion of it which was unusual for him and prompted Sarah to be playfully offended. Tony was happy that things weren’t tense or awkward during dinner. 

Afterwards, Benni and Sarah went to the living room. Sarah really didn’t have to worry about anything but her son for once, so Tony helped James with the dishes silently.

“The food was really good,” Tony said as he washed the dishes and smiled at James. He looked different. Or was it only the way Tony saw him now that he was with Steve? Whatever it was, James seemed different. “I’m guessing there won’t be anything to do at the office for me. Anything I can help you around with?”

“No,” he said immediately, “Steve and I don’t do business the same way.” What he really meant was _‘Steve might trust you but I still don’t_.’ “Speaking of, how's that going? I wasn’t even aware you were… interested in our type, shall I say?” He was eyeing Tony, curious of his reaction and responses. Sarah might have thought it was fine, Steve as well and it may have been fine but James knew what it was like being in a relationship with Steve.

“By ‘your type’ do you mean my sexuality, Steve’s and my relationship or mob bosses?” He asked with a small grin. “If the first, I didn’t quite realize it until a couple of months ago.” Not entirely true since it was less time but he didn’t want James to know that. He also knew that his relationship with Steve might be a somewhat sore subject so he wouldn’t go into that. Unless James asked him again. 

“Hm,” James said. “It’s a little too convenient for my liking.” He turned to Tony. “You just _realize_ you feel this way while he’s upset and vulnerable?”

“Do you want to hear my life’s story and how I realized my feelings for Steve so you can be sure that I mean it and that I’m not just using him? For whatever reason that would be.” 

“No, I most certainly do not. And I never said you were using him, you inferred that.” James leaned against the counter, done with the dishes. He did not normally do them, he’d recently picked up the habit along with a few new friends. 

James took in a deep breath. At least five thoughts had gone through his head but they were decidedly all too intense to say out loud. He didn’t hate Tony, he just wanted Steve safe. “Do you know why he was shot?”

“Why else would you want to know this?” Tony asked, drying the working spaces as he spoke. “No, I don’t. Why?”

James ignored all his questions and then asked, “Do you love him, _mal’chik_?”

Tony turned to look at him and answered without hesitation, “More than I could ever say.” 

He didn’t smile, didn’t chuckle, he deadpanned. “Then why don’t you know why he was shot?” 

“Because he lets me know if he thinks I should know. I don’t ask, I don’t question. He said he had business to take care of.” 

“And you, as someone who loves him, as his boyfriend and someone he loves, should know what that business is. You shouldn’t have to ask him. I’m not saying Steve is keeping things from you, but he’s also not entirely used to sharing that portion of his life with people. Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t with you.” James had had it with Steve not knowing how to function around Tony. If either of them were going to actually be good for one another, they would need to figure this out. Tony needed to ask and Steve needed to tell.

“Forming new habits takes time. All I needed to know for now is if he’s safe or not and if he’s going to handle it. Why it happened and how he can prevent it from happening again is not as important and can be figured out another time. He’s alive and he’ll heal. That’s all the information I need.” 

“ _As fucking naive as the day is long_ ,” James muttered in Russian, dragging a hand down his face and sighing. “Steve got shot for loving men, for being what we are. Half or more of his men know by now and they’re not going to take it well. This is not something that will blow over by the weekend. He’s—” He cut himself off. There was no point in telling Tony the odds. It would only scare him more and decrease his functional levels, James assumed. “I don’t give a fuck what he said, Steve’s scared and the fact that you don’t know that speaks volumes so no, I don’t need to know your life story. This was enough.” 

James watched Tony’s face and when it didn’t seem like he would say anything he sighed heavily and left, balling up the dish towel and throwing it on the counter. He went to his room and shut the door. 

Tony thought a lot about what James said, not even caring that he was now alone in the kitchen. He preferred to be alone and have time to process things. Though it didn’t seem that it would be the case for this. He tucked in Benni a bit earlier than usual and told him he would be back very late and he should go to Sarah if he was scared or anything. 

“Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to Steve,” Tony whispered softly while fixing his tie around his neck. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Benni made him promise to stay until he was asleep and so Tony stayed and only left once he was sure that Benni was truly asleep. 

Sarah had given Tony the extra set of keys in case of emergency. If this didn’t count as an emergency, Tony didn’t know what would. He took the keys and left the house, nearly jumping when a man stood right in front of him. It was one of the men James had introduced earlier. 

“Going out?” The man asked and Tony nodded. “Do you need a ride?” Tony wanted to be polite and decline but then he realized that there was no reason to do so. He nodded and was led to a nearby car. James would know. He probably already knew where Tony was going. It made no difference if he took a car or not.

At the hospital he was led straight to Steve’s room and no one followed him in. It was quite the service to be treated like that, though Tony preferred to do things his way and not be followed everywhere he went. 

Steve woke up as soon as the door closed. Tony didn’t need lights to know that. 

“It’s me,” he said, hanging his coat over a chair and turning on the lights. “I need to talk to you, Steve.” 

Steve’s head was pounding, he never did do well with pain medications, and he squeezed his eyes shut when Tony turned on the light. “What happened? Why are you here? Is everyone okay?” By the time he got to the last sentence, his eyes were open despite the brightness and he was searching for any sign of harm on Tony and then he got to his face and found it. “What’s wrong?”

“James told me why you were shot,” he stated simply, sitting down next to Steve’s bed. “Steve… why didn’t you tell me?” There was a lot more he wanted to ask but he knew that this was the most important question. Because it meant that James was right.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Steve swore in Gaelic. “I didn’t want you to be frightened any more than you had to be.” 

“And keeping this from me helps me how? I’m not a child, Steve. But I can only handle what you tell me. And this? This you should have told me.” 

Steve looked down, away from Tony’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. I was—I _am_ … scared.” He looked back at him and explained the whole ordeal: the guy, the letters, the threats, yesterday morning. 

Tony moved to hold Steve’s hand, not liking how harsh he had been towards him, and then he listened to it all. Once Steve was finished Tony sat on his bed to be closer to him and he kissed his forehead. No, this wouldn’t blow over. 

“What does this mean for you now? You said only Dugan knows. Will you even be okay with your own men?” Tony was scared, yes, but he also needed to know. “And... what if… you’re not? Will you fight them?” 

Steve chewed his lip, unsure, and then settled for complete truths. “This means that the four people in that house with you—Dmitri included—and Dugan are the only ones I can trust. For all the others right now, some I’m unsure where their loyalties lie and for others… I’m a walking target.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “I’ll fight every last one of ‘em.” _Because they’ll assume things and they’ll come for you next_. 

Tony nodded and leaned in to kiss Steve’s lips. “Don’t send me away then. You’re not alone in this.”

“No, Tony,” he said, reaching up, hands in his hair and moving down to hold his face. “In James’ house is where you are safest. My men might think they can come for me but no one’s stupid enough to try James. That’s where I need you. If you’re anywhere else, half of my focus will be worrying about you. If you’re there, I’ll know you’re safe. Please.”

“And all my focus will be on worrying about _you_.” He rested a hand on top of Steve's.

“No, Tony, love, you’ll worry but you’ll be safe. I’ll worry and I’ll be _killed_ ,” he said with more force than he intended. “So, _please_.”

Tony sighed and moved to lie down next to Steve, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Check in with me every day?”

Steve scooted over, pulling Tony into his arms, thankful he was shot on the other side. He pressed a kiss into his hair. “Of course I will. It’ll be my favorite part of the—”

“Cap, I didn’t want to wake you but saw the light was on, I—” Dugan skidded to a halt, the door closing behind him. He was holding several folders in his hands but his eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him. Tony in Steve’s arms. 

Steve didn’t move more than to reach under the covers and wrap his fingers around the gun he had at his side. One of James’ men had given it to him on James’ orders. He cocked it as quietly as possible but Dugan heard it, his eyes falling to the general area of the sound. 

“No need to shoot me, Cap, I’m on your side in all this, you know that.” 

“You can understand, I’m sure, that I’m a bit weary of everyone at the moment.” 

“I can and I can’t,” he said honestly, putting the folders down. “You should know I would never turn on you. And as for this,” he said, gesturing to Tony, “it’s not really shocking. You have a soft spot for brunettes and an ever softer one for him.” Steve didn’t smile, didn’t laugh, just waited. “Cap, _Steve_ ,” he said, a name he rarely called him, “you protected me on the battlefield, I’ve got your back in this fight. And every one after it.” He took a step forward. Steve dropped the gun, uncocking it, and bringing his hand back up where it was visible. “Can I show you the damage?” 

Steve nodded and held Tony tighter. Dugan came over with the folders and put them on the side of the bed and opened the one on the top. “Unfortunately, not everyone has my brand of loyalty. Or rather, any at all.” He turned it around and Steve saw the familiar face. “I can’t find him but he wasn’t happy when he left.” 

Steve stared at the man. At James Montgomery Falsworth. He swallowed hard. 

“I don’t think I have to tell you what you already know.” 

Steve turned to Tony and said, “Yes, Falsworth is a boxer but in the war, he was a sniper.” Steve waited a beat, taking a shaky breath and asked, “Jones?” 

“He's at your house, searching it for traps. Since Falsworth knows the way in, thought it a good idea.” 

Steve sighed in relief. So Jones was still one of the good ones. Alright. He could deal with that. He might’ve lost his sniper, but he still had his strategist/interrogator and weapons specialist on his side. 

“Show me the rest.” Everyone after that were underlings. Errand boys, the ones he sent out to pick up protection money or make deliveries to the other mobs. No one high up with access to much any of Steve’s life, business or private. Dugan was the only one with a key to his home, which did beg the question how Falsworth might’ve gotten in, and Dugan told him he had locked the office on the way over.

Tony stayed close to Steve after Dugan had promised his loyalty, feeling how Steve was holding him tighter as well. How could anyone ever betray him? The betrayal of Falsworth hurt Tony and he couldn't even begin to imagine what it must’ve done to Steve.

“This all?” 

“This is all I know of, I’m sure there are some I don’t.” 

“How did you peg these ones then?” 

“These are files I’ve kept for years. Any time I heard any of ‘em say somethin’ bad about your kind,” he said, no malice in the term, “I started a file. Jim’s is new.” 

Steve nodded slowly. “Thank you, Dugan—Timothy—for everything. I apologize for doubting you.” 

“It’s in the past already. Like it never happened,” he said with a small smile, sending one Tony’s way. Tony was just sitting on the side of the bed now but still holding Steve’s hand. He looked shaken. “He’s in good hands, lad.”

Tony felt extremely grateful for Dugan and at the same time he hated how everyone seemed to be able to read him. "Thank you," he said honestly. He looked to Steve and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. They had leads, people to weed out. 

Dugan got up and wished them a good night. 

“How are you gettin’ back to Winter’s?” He asked just before he opened the door.

“I’ll find a way,” Tony said with a smile. Dugan liked him and now Tony liked him too. When he was gone Tony looked back at Steve. “Distraction? Or do you want to talk about it?” He knew that sleep was off the table.

Steve tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. This was all a lot to process. He’d never been more grateful for Dugan in his life and once this was all over he was getting a fat raise and invites to their family dinners. Steve would also be paying for his wedding if he married the girl he was courting. 

He looked back to Tony, his heart racing. “Distraction, please. I can’t talk about it right now.” 

Tony got up and got rid of his jacket and tie to get more comfortable next to Steve. He laid down next to him and carefully wrapped an arm around Steve’s middle where he didn’t feel thick bandages. He kissed his cheek, down his neck and back up to his lips, peppering his skin with soft kisses. He kept his kisses and touches, soft and innocent to comfort Steve. Considering his wound it wouldn’t be a good idea to get him too excited and he didn’t want to add to his pain. 

It was wonderful. So light and refreshing but Steve couldn’t get his mind off of everything. Most things, but not everything. “What else did James tell you?” He asked, staring at the wall. The mood was gone and he just felt a little hollow but Tony’s presence kept him above water, kept him from drowning in his own worries.

Tony took Steve’s hand and watched him stare at the wall as if all the answers to every question ever was there. 

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” He asked. Not because he wanted to keep secrets but because Steve had enough on his mind as it was and he didn’t need additional worries. 

“James being an asshole is easy to stomach compared to everything else in my head right now,” he said. He couldn’t let anything happen to him. He wouldn’t leave Tony. “I know you have more questions. I haven’t been the most forthcoming.”

“He wasn’t an asshole. He… just spoke his mind.” Tony couldn’t help and grin a little. “I’d rather not give you anything more to worry. That’s not why I came here.”

Steve chuckled. “You just said the same thing twice. James being an asshole and James speaking his mind, there’s no difference.” But it didn’t take long for the mood to drop. He didn’t want to die and leave Tony with unanswered questions or doubts but Tony didn’t want to talk about it so Steve dropped it. “Okay,” he said, pulling Tony into his arms. 

“Steve… you sound like the little one when I don’t allow him sweets before dinner. And then Sarah comes and gives him some anyways.” He smiled and put a hand on Steve’s cheek to turn his face towards him. “He said I shouldn’t have to ask to know what’s going on with you. That I should know your business. And he said the fact that I don’t realize you’re scared says more than enough for him.”

Steve hated it when James was right. Hated it with a passion. “You shouldn’t have to ask,” he said, “and from now on you won’t.” He didn’t know what to say about the second thing. He supposed—hoped—that would come with time. He was looking into Tony’s eyes, searching them. “I wanna do right by you. I’m just learning how.”

“It’s not me who said those things,” he answered, hating how he had given in to Steve. “He’s in no position to judge us. All I want, _tesoro_ , is for you to be safe so we can have all the time in the world.”

Steve agreed but at the same time he knew James was coming from a unique perspective. But Steve just sighed and said, “You’re right but still, you’re not an employee, Tony, you’re the man I love. I want us to have all that time too but I also want to make sure that in case we don’t—just in case—that you’re not left wondering who I even am.”

Tony sat up and let go of Steve’s hand. “Oh no, don’t you dare. You’re not even thinking that, you hear me?”

“No, Tony, I have to. I don’t want to, I don’t, but I have to. I have to plan ahead for whatever happens. I need to know you’re taken care of.” There were tears in Steve’s eyes and he didn’t understand why Tony was no longer holding his hand. He swallowed back the tears, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. You came to comfort me and I can’t get out of my head long enough to let you do that.” He was reaching for Tony’s hands in the same way he had reached out for the hug in the study the night he played the piano, desperate for Tony’s touch.

Tony held Steve's hands in his tightly. Seeing Steve so heartbroken hurt more than he could have ever said and it made his eyes fill with tears too. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’ll deal with this with the help of those you trust and who are still loyal to you. It’ll be difficult. But in a few weeks we’ll be back at home and every night we’ll be spending our evenings together. Because you promised and you always keep your promises. You hear me?”

Steve nodded, exhaling shakily for the fourth time that evening. “Yes, okay. Yes.” Steve pulled Tony closer by the hand he was holding and kissed him roughly. “Thank you,” he said, leaning their foreheads together.

Tony closed his eyes, feeling Steve’s breath on his face. He still felt heavy and sad that Steve thought he wouldn’t make it but something about the way he kissed him told Tony that he had not given up yet. And that was the part Tony would keep alive. 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered softly. “Would it bother you if I stayed the night? Just staying here with you.”

“No, please stay,” he said quietly. 

Seeing Steve this small and sad hurt Tony and he kissed him lovingly. “ _I’m here, love. It’s okay. I got you,”_ whispered soothingly in Italian, combing through Steve’s hair slowly. 

“I just want to love you. I don’t understand why they want me dead because of it. It’s got nothing to do with—I only—I’ve known Falsworth for seven years. We used to pull all kinds of pranks on Jones and Dugan. I’ve got a hundred and one stories about him and me. And now he wants to kill me all because the person I choose to love is a man.” The tears were back, threatening to fall down his cheeks and he was just barely containing it.

Tony held Steve in his arms, combing through his hair as he listened, whispering how much he loved Steve in Italian. There was nothing he could say or do that would help Steve, nothing that would change the world or situation they were in. The world wasn’t kind but Tony promised Steve he would find a way to make it up to him.

Steve slowed his breathing, trying to calm himself, trying to listen to Tony. Tony who he loved more than life itself and would do anything to protect. He dragged a hand across his face over his wet eyes and cleared his throat, saying quietly but firmly, “I’ll kill him with my bare hands before I let anything happen to you.” He pressed kisses to Tony’s hands and up his forearms. “I won’t let anything happen to me. You’re not losing me. Not on account of some ignorant fucks.” He channeled the hurt into anger, something he had mastered over the years.

“Don’t worry about me, love. I’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll be there waiting for you. Whatever you have to do, do it. But know this: I’ll gladly run away with you. Live somewhere far away. In a cottage in Ireland. Or make wine in Italy somewhere in a small village? I wouldn’t mind either.” He spoke with a small smile and kissed Steve’s cheek. It felt warm under his lips. 

Would Steve prefer that? Just escape from everything? Maybe another time but that wasn’t who he was. He didn’t back down from a fight. He and Sarah were stubborn that way, determined others might call it. 

“One day that could be nice,” he said, though he didn’t entirely see himself living the village life. He yawned, shifting, and he gasped in pain, his hand going to his side. “It’s fine,” he quickly told Tony. “I just moved wrong.” He was feeling heavier and heavier, exhaustion threatening to take him more so than sleep. He wasn’t sleepy, he was tired. Two very different states of being.

Tony knew he wouldn’t want that but that wasn’t the point of why he had brought it up. “I’ve never seen a cottage. They say they’re really cozy and comfortable,” he said with a soft voice. It didn’t matter what he said. He just wanted to take Steve’s mind off the things that were bothering him. And so he told Steve in great detail what he imagined a cottage to be like. And what he would like to have in it and Steve drifted off to sleep. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not over yet.

Back in his office three days later—the doctor had all but forced him to stay four days at least—he sat at his desk and looked through all the files Dugan, Jones and James’ men had already crossed off. Nine of the twelve files. The original two who ran away after Steve was shot and Falsworth, still missing. Two more Dugan had cornered that morning but only one needed weeding out. 

Jones came in then, his face sympathetic but also a tiny bit irritated. “Never trusted me enough, Cap?” He asked, putting another file on the desk. It was the boy Dugan had questioned but left alive. They were also collecting the good ones for their own knowledge of who was alright. 

“I told Dugan by accident,” he explained. “I never intended to tell any of you.” 

“Why not?” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Is this hell on earth not reason enough?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“And is Falsworth not all the reason you’d ever need?” Jones looked away. 

“I never expected that. Ever. He and I used to sit around telling lil Ben how great ya are. How much we admire you. Falsworth always had the best stories so for him to turn around and—” Jones looked away, biting his tongue. It had slipped Steve’s memory that Falsworth was Jones’ best friend. 

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” he told him sincerely. 

“It’s awful but it’s better than going my whole life never knowing what kind of man he really is.” He put a hand on the back of the seat in front of Steve’s desk. “Dugan says we’re staying with you in your gaff till this is all cleared up?” 

“It was Dugan’s idea. Hope it doesn’t put you out too much.” 

Jones shook his head. “Unlike Jim, I’m prepared to give my life for the man who saved mine.” And it was true. Steve, being who he was, had taken significant risks for the safety of his team. A bullet in the back for Dugan, shrapnel in his lower leg for Jones and another bullet—though it only nicked his skin—on his right arm for Falsworth. Every time he’d pushed them out of the way and stopped what would’ve been a quick death. “If he can't return a life for a life as the bare minimum of his loyalty to you, I don’t give much worth to his. Dugan and I owe you double now to make up for that sorry waste of space.” 

“No, you don’t, Jones.” 

“How about this then? We _want_ to, Cap. Let us.” Steve gave him a look but Jones waved it away with a laugh. “You don’t scare me, Cap. I just pretend you do for the sake of the underlings.” Steve couldn’t help his grin. Jones turned to leave and then said, “oh and I heard from Dugan about you and the lad. You scare me even less now.” 

It was three days later that Steve was caught off guard again. In the gym, he was heading for the door to his home when someone came out of one of the dark corners. He didn’t recognize the face, some youngster again, no older than twenty. 

He lunged at Steve with a knife but Steve caught the sound of his shoe on the rough ground and moved with a second left, grabbing him by his arm and snapping it. The boy screamed and in no time Dugan was downstairs. 

“You alright?” He asked Steve who was panting. He was sure he’d torn a stitch but it was nothing he couldn’t fix on his own. He nodded and Dugan dragged the boy out to do away with him. 

Upstairs, Steve tended to his wounds and then checked in with Tony. 

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless and perhaps he should’ve waited to call until the pain went down some. 

Around the same time as always Tony waited in front of the phone. It was the best they could do until Steve had taken care of everything.

“Hi.” He smiled and then frowned almost immediately. “Did you run to the phone because you missed me so much?” He asked weakly. It was supposed to be a joke but somehow he knew that something must have happened.

“Of course I did, love,” he said and then felt bad for lying to him. Honesty. Complete transparency. “It was nothing. Just an overeager eejit with a knife. I got to him before he got to me.” 

Tony had to hold the phone away and bite back a sigh, taking a shaky breath. It took a moment before he got back and continued as usual. “Did you get your stitches looked at?” He asked and pulled a leg close to his chest. 

“I checked them myself. Some had torn,” he told him. “But I’m fine. Dugan and Jones are staying with me, you know. They’re taking good care of me.”

 _Not well enough_. Tony hated how bitter he sounded in his own head. “They better. Sarah misses you like crazy.” Though Sarah wasn’t, of course, the only one who missed Steve. “Benni does too…” he added, softer. 

“What about my favorite person? Does he miss me?” Steve asked, grinning. “Cause I know I miss him and I can’t wait to see him.”

“Him? Hmmmm… not so much, no.” He snorted. “Only like a fish on land misses the sea.”

“You had me there for a second,” he said with a chuckle. “Wish I could’ve seen that smirk. Soon I will. We’re making good progress. Just a few still out there and then I’ll have ya in my arms again,” he finished with a yawn. 

“While I can’t wait for that to happen, I’d rather have you take care of yourself. Are you getting enough rest? Don’t make me worry about you.” He closed his eyes and imagined Steve in front of him. What he would give to be in front of him. 

“I am,” he told him. “And eating enough food.” 

They talked for just over an hour before Steve’s yawning was the majority of the conversation and Tony decided to let him go so he could get some sleep. 

It was a week later before anything happened again. They were down to just two. One of the boys and Falsworth. They’d gone through their entire organization, only ten more weeded out. Some knew nothing, others didn’t care and some, it felt, shared Steve’s way of life. 

Steve, Dugan and Jones were walking back to the car, Jones at his six and Dugan leading in front, both of them with their guns in hand, held out, ready to shoot. 

They made it safely, surprised. They’d been exposed and it was nearing evening. It would've been a perfect time for an ambush but they counted their blessings instead and headed home. 

“I was thinking maybe, Jones, you should make that thing with the duck,” Dugan said loud enough for Steve to hear and add his two bits in case he wasn’t feeling up to having that meal.

“Isn’t it your turn to cook?” Jones asked. 

“And on my turn, I’m gonna be generous and give it to you.” 

“Well, that’s—”

Two tires were shot out, the car swerved, Dugan unable to control it, and hit a fire hydrant head on. Dugan was down for the count, his head on the steering wheel, blood trickling down. Jones was quiet too, leaning back, his mouth open. Steve had been thrown onto the floor, feeling the familiar tear of his stitches as he caught himself. 

He pushed himself up just enough to look out the window. It was dark, they’d been doing business in Manhattan with the Italians and were on their way back. There was another shot to the window and Steve ducked, pulling out his gun. 

“Dugan! Jones!” He called, just loud enough for them to hear, but neither of them moved. He reached up, thankful to feel a pulse on both of them, strong and steady but they were out. 

Steve kicked open the door and fire opened on it. He reached forward again to pull Dugan and Jones down a little further and keep them out of the line of fire. 

“Rogers,” Falsworth called, “get yer disgusting self out of that car.” 

“And if I decline?” He asked, taking Dugan’s gun and Jones’ too. He cocked them both and planted them in his trouser pockets and then removed his hat, tossing it out the door. Four shots hit it and it was torn to pieces. At least he knew from which direction the shots were coming, he could find a blind spot. 

He looked out of the back window and saw the glint of the gun in the moonlight from a window three stories up and about twenty feet behind him to right of the car. He couldn’t see the other kid but he just knew Falsworth wasn’t alone. 

“Rogers!” Falsworth yelled. The neighborhood was silent. It had been a while since their last shoot out but not long enough that they forgot how to behave. The windows shut up tight, the streets cleared, lights out. Another shot from a different direction, a handgun, not the machine Falsworth was sporting. 

The carphone in Steve’s car rang and he grabbed it on the first ring. 

“Steve, where are you? You missed your check in,” James said. 

“Senator and fourth, one machine, one hand, protection’s down,” Steve rattled off into the phone as quietly as possible, trying to lookout for the owner of the handgun, his eyes darting left and right in the darkness. 

“Five minutes,” James said and hung up. 

Steve waited, completely silent, hoping Falsworth would assume he’d bled out or was otherwise too injured to respond or move. He counted to twenty and then kicked open the other door, closing an eye as he aimed up at the window and he heard a yelp. The gun moved out of the window. He wasn’t sure what he had hit exactly but it was good enough that he could get out of the car. 

He passed down an alley and another shot rang out, hitting the brick his above his head. Shitty aim, so not Falsworth.

Steve pressed himself into the recess created by a back door, hidden in the shadows despite his large frame. The kid poked his head around the corner and then further when he saw nothing. Steve drew his gun. Three shots to the chest and he hit the ground, his own gun skittering across the sidewalk. 

Steve moved out, slowly towards the sidewalk. Falsworth moved faster, coming around the corner and grabbing Steve by his arm and slamming him into the wall. Steve was a big guy, a strong fella, but so was Falsworth and he had years of boxing on his side. 

He punched Steve firmly in his stomach and a second time in his stitches and Steve let out a groan, the blood pooling through into his shirt. Falsworth threw Steve’s guns away from him while he was blinded by the pain. 

“You’re an abomination,” he spat, and he hit him again but this time Steve hit him back, slamming their foreheads together and Falsworth staggered back. 

“You’re the last of ‘em,” Steve said, holding his side, his head pounding, but he stood up straight. “Killed the rest and now I’ll kill you too.” 

Falsworth laughed. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll never be accepted. You’ll always have to carry on your unnaturalness in the shadows. Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing you weren’t made right? That you’re a fucking _mistake_ , Rogers,” Falsworth spat. “To think I’ve spent all these years working under some vile beast of a man.” 

Steve ground his teeth and swung, catching Falsworth on the jaw. Falsworth hit Steve again, lightning quick, punching him just above his stitches but it hurt worse than it should. Steve looked down, a second circle of blood growing on his white shirt. 

“What did you…” 

Falsworth flashed a knife, the tip coated in blood. Before Steve could react, he stabbed him again, the other side, and Steve coughed, touching his lip. He tasted blood. He staggered back. 

“Filthy, sickening, foul,” Falsworth said, and stabbed him again, in the leg. Steve fell onto one knee. “Putrid, horrid, undeserving of life.” 

Steve would not die. He had promised Tony, he couldn’t back out on that. 

_Tony, Tony, Tony_ was the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. He stood slowly, spitting blood onto the sidewalk. 

“Really?” Falsworth asked. “You’re still trying to do anything with honor? There’s no honor for your kind.” 

“What, you getting tired? I can do this all day,” he said, raising his fists. Falsworth scoffed, the knife gripped tightly in his hand. He took a step and then lurched forward, catching himself. He turned and Steve saw the familiar handle of a blade sticking out of Falsworth’s shoulder. 

“You should talk less. You can’t murder someone with words,” James said, entering the alleyway. 

Falsworth went five shades paler. James walked towards him slowly, his eyes cold and expression murderous, literally. “You have something that belongs to me and you hurt _someone_ who belongs to me.” 

He held his hand out for the knife but Falsworth just raised his own. 

“Come now, Falsworth,” he said, passing under a streetlight, casting shadows on his face, making the places where his eyes should’ve been black holes. He smiled at Falsworth. “Turn, let me get my knife, make this a fair fight.” 

Falsworth considered this a moment, keeping his knife in his hand and then shook his head. 

“What? You think I was born yesterday? Now what’re you gonna do without your fancy knife?” 

James’ smile grew wider. “You _must've_ been born yesterday if you think I only have one.” He entered Falsworth’s space and the man swung at James again and again, but James dodged each one like he knew it was coming and then he grabbed him, holding him in a headlock. James stabbed him in his side with the second knife, making Falsworth drop the one he was holding and then James pulled the original blade from his shoulder and slit Falsworth’s throat. He didn’t have time or the desire to prolong his death.

Blood went everywhere and James dropped him, stepping on him as he moved to get to Steve who was trying to keep his breathing even but was quickly bleeding out. “Steve, Stevie, hey, hey, stay with me.” He was lightly slapping his face. Steve had lost a lot of blood already and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. 

“ _Lift him,”_ he ordered a few of his men. “ _Put him in my car and get an ambulance for the other two._ _Now_.” Dmitri helped two other men and James lift Steve as gently as possible and hurry him over to the car, laying him out across the backseat. James climbed in with him and Dmtriri quickly got in the front and started the car. 

“Hey, Stevie, I need you to stay awake for me,” James said desperately. Steve’s eyes kept rolling back every time he tried to open them and when he opened his mouth to speak, he coughed up blood. James took his handkerchief and dabbed his mouth with it, worry distorting his features. 

Steve mumbled something but James didn’t understand and then he closed his eyes, his hand going limp in James’. James squeezed it and couldn’t find a pulse. 

“Oh, fuck. _Please_ , _no_ ,” he pleaded, pushing himself up to start compressions. Thirty seconds later and Steve gasped, more blood dripping out of his mouth but at least he was awake again. “Steve, please,” James begged. “I can’t lose you. For so many reasons, I can’t.” 

When they reached the hospital the hallways had been cleared for their arrival and a gurney was ready for Steve out front. He was admitted for the second time in what was too few weeks, and rolled inside. James walked at the head of the gurney, pushing it and snapping at anyone who tried to offer to do it instead. 

When they got to the operating ward, Steve was ushered in and prepped. James burst into the surgical prep room and all the surgeons turned, masks on over their otherwise terrified expressions. 

“If he doesn’t make it, neither will any of you,” he said darkly, the blade he’d just used on Falsworth in his hand, still tipped red. He looked at each of them in turn and then left to call Sarah.

Dmitri still stood in the room with the surgeons, adding something before leaving as well. “I hope for your sake you know how serious he is.” 

Outside James was on the phone. 

“I don’t know yet but it doesn’t look good,” James told her. “He lost a lot of blood and I lost him once on the ride over.” 

“You did _what_?!” she nearly screeched into the phone. “Okay, okay,” she said and James knew she was crying. “We’re coming.” 

Steve’s damage was extensive. He would be looking at a couple weeks in the hospital this time, no exceptions. He had the three stab wounds, the damage done to his gun shot wound, and a few others cuts, scrapes and bruises. He was suffering from a nasty concussion and he had more stitches on his eyebrow from where he’d fallen in the car and cut it open. 

All in all he was in surgery for five hours. They lost him once more and panicked but managed to get a pulse back and close him up. The prognosis was good but it would be a long road to recovery. 

Dugan and Jones were in a room across from Steve’s, all three on the VIP floor receiving the best care money could buy. They only had minor wounds—a concussion for Dugan and a broken arm from hitting it on the steering wheel; Jones also had a concussion and three cracked ribs from the seat belt.

When Sarah stood in front of Tony she didn’t need to say a word. After Steve had missed his check in time Tony had been worried, now he just knew that something was wrong, so terribly wrong. Benni was asleep but he quickly wrote a message, telling the boy to stay at home and not go anywhere.

Sarah addressed one of the men outside the house to drive them to the hospital. Tony held onto her hand during the drive there. She was trembling and muttering words under her breath. If Sarah Rogers was truly praying, Tony thought, it didn’t look good. But it had to. Because Steve promised. Everything would be fine. 

And then he saw James who was also paler and even he looked worried. Sarah rushed to him and they hugged and talked. Tony _knew_ they talked but he couldn’t hear a single word. Even when they came to him and were obviously speaking to him he couldn’t hear a word.

Instead there was Steve’s voice in his head telling him he loved Tony, how much he missed him and how he would hold Tony in his arms again as soon as he could.

He found himself in a room not unlike the one in which Sarah, James and he had waited only a few weeks ago. Sarah was leaned against James with her eyes closed. As if she knew that Tony was looking at her, she raised her head and looked at him.

“ _A ghrá_ ,” she sighed, relieved, and Tony smiled at her.

“I’m fine, _zia._ Don’t worry about me.” He got up and kissed her cheek. “Do you want something to drink?” When she looked at him in confusion he felt the need to say something, though he knew what James’ reaction would be. “It’ll be fine. _He_ will be fine.” 

" _He fucking better be,_ " James mumbled in Russian and Tony looked at him.

“There’s no other way.” Tony nodded and looked back to Sarah who was now holding his hand and asking for something to drink. He nodded and headed out of the room to get her water and some juice, as well as coffee for himself. 

By the time Tony came back with the drinks, James was talking furiously with two people in white coats—the head surgeon and Steve’s usual doctor. He was angry and speaking too fast for Sarah to catch it. Her Russian wasn’t as good as Steve’s. 

“ _What do you mean complication?_ ” James growled, looking between the two of them. 

“ _Sir, we will have to take him into surgery again.”_

“ _How much do you value your life, doctor?”_ The doctor swallowed hard and looked at the surgeon. _“Because if the answer is at all then you’ll tell me in no uncertain terms what’s wrong._ ” 

The surgeon took a deep breath and said, “ _We—we don’t know, sir, but he’s not responding right.”_

The fingers around James’ knife tightened, the sound of his grip against the leather handle an audible strain. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, “ _How do you not know?_ ” 

“ _Sir—“_

“ _Fix it. Go.”_ When they left, James turned to Tony and Sarah. “Something’s wrong and they don’t know what.” 

“James,” Sarah said slowly. “How serious?” 

He sheathed his knife into the holder he kept on his right hip and said, “That’s what I’m going to find out.” 

An hour later, James returned, rolling his sleeves up and he nodded to Sarah. She sighed in relief, so tense for that hour she thought she’d never get her shoulders back down. 

“He’s okay?” 

“They missed an internal suture, he was bleeding but they fixed it. He should be in a room in about ten minutes.” 

Sarah squeezed Tony’s hand, pulled him into her arms, and kissed his cheeks. 

Ten minutes later they were led to Steve’s room. He looked awful but he was alive and breathing and that’s all that mattered. 

James walked up to him—he was heavily sedated—and pushed his hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead, whispering something too quiet for the others to hear, and then stepping back to make way for Sarah and Tony. 

Tony felt Sarah’s relief, knowing how tense she had been the past few hours. Whenever he felt the same way, like it was hopeless and taking too long and that there was a real possibility he would never see Steve again, he thought back to the night he spent with Steve and the promise he had given Tony. 

It still helped to actually see Steve lying in his bed, even if he looked pale. He would recover. Sarah kept holding onto Tony until they stood right next to Steve’s bed. Quickly Tony got her a chair so she could sit down, holding Steve’s hand and speaking in Gaelic to him. Tony grabbed the chart to see exactly what had been done to Steve and took the information all in. 

“James?” He asked the man who was now standing behind Sarah. “Are Dugan and Jones awake?” 

“Last I checked Dugan was, Jones was still out,” he told him, not taking his eyes off Steve longer than a second.

Seeing as James and Sarah seemed to need a moment to convince themselves that Steve was really there and would be okay, Tony wanted to give them that. Now that he was out of surgery and in his bed, there was no way Tony would leave his side anytime soon. 

As quietly as possible he headed out to the room in which Dugan was resting. After knocking, Tony entered without waiting for an answer.

“Hello,” he said with a friendly expression, too tired to actually smile. “Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.” He stood next to Dugan’s bed and looked at the bandaged arm. “You broke the same arm as me. Were you jealous of my amazing cast?” He joked lightly. 

“Yeah, lad, that’s what the idea was here,” he said, chuckling and wincing. “How’s Cap? And you?” 

“Out of surgery and in his room across the hall. Thought I’d give James and Sarah some time. He’s still sedated and sleeping. How’s your pain? Do you want me to get you anything?” 

“Good, good,” he said, nodding. “A whiskey would be nice but I’ve the feeling that request would be denied. I’m good, lad, cheers. And again, how are you?”

“I’m sure James can arrange things but on your first day after a concussion it wouldn’t be a good idea.” He leaned against the bed and shrugged. “I’m okay. He’s lying there and I’ll be there when he wakes up.”

“You sure will be,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh look, there’s my room service.” Dmitri came in with a tray of food and a glass of apple juice and sat it down on Dugan’s lap. “Thanks, _love_ ,” he said with a sly grin. 

Dmitri laughed. “Anytime, _dear_ ,” he countered and then left again not long after, having somewhere else to be. 

Dugan turned to Tony. “Want some of this? I can’t imagine you’ve eaten since hearing the news.” 

“I could have given you guys a moment if you needed it,” Tony grinned, getting ready to help Dugan if he needed assistance. “I’m good, I’ll get me something later. It’s more important that you eat.” 

Dugan chuckled. “As if I don’t spend enough time with that punk as it is,” he said fondly.

Tony stayed silent for a minute, watching Dugan eat. “Dugan?” He asked and found it difficult to say something. “Do you... is it over?”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” he said, looking down away from Tony, ashamed. “You’d have to ask Winter just how over it is. I wasn’t much help to anyone.” He took another bite of the fruit salad in front of him, purposefully focusing on it. He hadn’t explicitly promised Tony he would bring Steve home in one piece but he knew it was an unspoken promise and he hadn’t been able to keep his word. 

“These past weeks you kept him safe, stayed by his side and found the people who were a threat. That’s not nothing, Dugan.” Tony said sincerely. Though he knew where this came from, Tony wanted him to know that he did everything he could. “Winter is Winter. But you’re you. And there’s a reason I asked you,” he said, looking around the room. It was a nice room not that he expected any less of James.

“Thanks, lad. I appreciate hearin’ that. Especially comin’ from you.” He glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile. 

He turned his head when Jones stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He looked around the room and slowly tried to sit up a little. 

“Ya cracked your ribs,” Dugan told him and he finally looked over at Dugan and Tony, giving them a small smile but he winced and the smile faded completely as he remembered. 

“Dugan? What happened?” 

“I’ll explain later.” 

“Just… is Jim…?” Dugan nodded. “Alright,” he said quietly and gave Tony a nod before turning over to face away from them, tears silently falling. Dugan watched him a moment longer before returning his attention to Tony. 

“How’s the little one? Is he here?” He knew Benni might be able to cheer Jones up some. He loved that kid.

“No, we got the call in the middle of the night. I left him a note but I’ll get him soon probably.” He felt out of place yet again. Maybe he should ask Dmitri to get Benni. 

Dmitri came back in, his eyes going to Jones for a moment where he could see his shoulders shaking and then back to Tony, “Steve’s waking up. Go now and you’ll be there before he opens his eyes,” he told him, moving to point at Dugan’s untouched bread roll. “Eat.” 

“Thank you,” he said and smiled at Dugan. “I’ll be back later. Oh and Dmitri could you look after Benni maybe pick him up?”

Dmitri turned to Tony. “Of course.” He told Dugan to eat all his food before he got back and Dugan just laughed and asked for a hot pie from the place near James’ house. Dmitri nodded and left.

Tony left the room and went back to Steve and straight to his bed. He was just about to open his eyes a little when Tony put a hand on his.

“Hi there,” he said softly.

Steve came to slowly, still feeling the effects of all the morphine. His body felt like concrete, his middle was screaming with pain every time he breathed and he had one hell of a headache, but he heard Tony’s voice and that made everything alright. He wasn’t dead. He kept his promise. 

Steve moved his hand to curl his fingers around Tony’s hand. He opened his eyes fully to the bright room, to James standing with his arm around Sarah and her there with her tissue and bright red nose. He gave them a small smile. Then his eyes found Tony and for a moment he forgot about his pain. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice coming out more gruff than usual, deeper. “You alright?” He asked in his usual Steve fashion as though he wasn’t the one who was clinging to life only an hour ago. 

“I am now,” he answered and put his other hand on Steve’s as well. “How are you feeling?” He asked softly, looking at his face, at the bandages and band-aids. He was alright. He would heal. 

“Like I got run over,” he said, laughing and instantly regretting it, sucking in a sharp breath. “I know I got stabbed but I don’t remember it hurting this much at the time.” 

“Your surgery was complex. Took those idiots a few tries to get everything right,” James told him. Steve’s eyes fell to him and he smiled. “You’re safe now. It’s over.” 

“You got him?” James nodded, miming a throat cutting action, his face serious. 

“Thank you.” 

“You really don’t need to thank me for that.” 

Suddenly Steve remembered he wasn’t the only one there. “Dugan? And Jones?” He looked at James and Tony and Sarah, noticing Benni wasn’t there but he would ask about him next. 

“They’re fine. Minor wounds. They’re across the hall.” Steve sighed in relief. 

Sarah moved forward towards him and ran her fingers through his hair, standing on the other side of the bed to Tony and James remained at the foot. She kissed his hair. 

“Hey, ma,” he said softly. 

“Hi, pet.” She pressed another gentle kiss to his hair. “I have a request.” He waited. “I need you not to worry about anyone but yourself for the next couple hours at least, alright?” James chuckled and Steve nodded. 

“Wait. Just one last one?” 

“Fine. But just one.” 

“Where’s Benni?” He asked, looking at Tony now. Once Steve knew that all of his family—Tony, Sarah, Benni, James, Dugan, and Jones—were alright, he could rest again. 

“On his way. Dmitri went to get him,” Tony said. Steve nodded slowly and pointed to the little button on his IV that would release more morphine. Sarah pushed it twice and Steve relaxed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I’m glad you’re all safe,” he said. James laughed outright. 

“ _Idiot_ ,” he said lovingly in Russian, shaking his head. Steve smiled. Sarah nodded in agreement with James, still combing her fingers through Steve’s hair. 

Dmitri came in a moment later with Benni and turned to James. “James,” he said and Sarah was shocked to hear him call him by his first name but James didn’t react more than to turn to him, “phone call. _He wants an update,_ ” he finished in Russian. James pardoned himself and… was that a smile on his face? Sarah would find out more later.

Tony didn’t pay attention to the others in the room, only reacting slightly when Benni hugged him. Steve had been awake and now he was sleeping.

“I want to stay,” he said, looking at Sarah for just a second. 

“Let’s get you food first, hm? I could go for something to eat myself.” 

Tony nodded and before Sarah could say anything, Dmitri was already on his way and Tony turned back to Steve, still holding his hand in his. 

There was food and Sarah made Tony let go of Steve to eat and drink. He even managed to talk to Benni, who of course was curious and wanted to know what happened, of which he was proud. 

It was around noon that Sarah nearly dozed off, even if it was just for a second. 

“ _Zia_ , go home. I’ll stay and let you know if something changes. You’re exhausted.”

“So are you, _a ghrá_.”

“I’m fine.” There was no way he would ever leave Steve’s side if he didn’t absolutely have to. She looked to Steve and then back to Tony, her gaze softening. She kissed the top of his head and thanked him. Together with Benni she headed home—to which one exactly he didn’t know. They’d probably go back to Steve’s house soon. 

Tony kept staring at the sleeping Steve who stirred in his sleep, wincing every now and then and going very still again. No matter how heavy his eyes got, Tony forced himself to keep them open and keep looking at him. 

It was just when Tony was debating with himself whether or not he should nap for a bit when Steve gasped and his eyes opened. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Steve, look at me,” Tony said, gently rubbing over his forearm and making Steve turn to him. 

Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe and he didn’t remember where he was and someone was touching him but it wasn’t threatening. His eyes roamed around the room, unfocused, until finally they found Tony’s face and slowly they focused, wide and terrified. 

“Ah,” he said, his hand going to his side with the two stabs and the bullet wound. “Tony? Where is everyone? What time is it?” 

“Slower,” Tony said and sat down on the bed to be closer to him. “ _Zia_ and Benni went home. James took a phone call and I’m still here,” he explained softly. “It’s early afternoon and you’re safe.” He fixed his hair again. 

Steve blew out a deep breath, his heart slowing but only a little. “Alright,” he said, taking in the information. “Everyone still okay? Dugan? Jones?” 

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Dugan is up and ate. Jones is…” He thought about it. “Sad. But his wounds aren’t major either.” He looked in his eyes. 

Steve frowned. Of course Jones would be sad. He had played the strong person in Steve’s office when it came to Falsworth but it still hurt him. “Falsworth was his best friend,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do if the situation was reversed. If it was James.” He looked towards the hallway, wishing he could go across and comfort him but he knew he was bed bound for a while. “Have you eaten?” 

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. He knew they were close but he didn’t know that the two of them were especially close. “Yeah,” he answered. “But I can get you something to eat if you’d like. Or drink. Or both?” Despite what he said, he held on to Steve’s hand tightly. 

He turned his head to look at Tony. “Actually a little bite would be great and some water.” 

Tony leaned down to kiss Steve’s hand and got up to get him food. He wouldn’t ask someone else to get it but he would take care of it himself, even when one of James’ men asked him if he needed something. 

Not even two minutes after Tony had left, there were loud voices coming from Dugan and Jones’ room. 

“With all due respect, get your Irish ass back in your bed, Cap,” Dugan told him. 

“I just wanted to check on you two. Everyone has updated me but I needed to see with my own eyes that you were alright,” Steve said, leaning against the door. Two of James’ men stood behind him, ready to catch him if he collapsed. He had threatened them when they attempted to put him back in his own bed and he’d done it again when they touched him, trying to support him. 

“We’re fine, Cap, now go before you bleed out all over the floor,” Jones said. Steve turned to look down the hall when he heard familiar footsteps and saw James and Tony heading his way. 

“Oh bloody hell, the police are coming,” Steve said and made the other two laugh. He turned slowly to lean against the door frame and give them a grin. “Don’t yell, this is a hospital.” Steve was maybe a little high on the drugs. Just a little. 

Tony and James exchanged a look and Tony went to hold Steve’s door open while James supported Steve back to his room, saying something in Russian to his men.

Moments later Steve was back in his bed and James checked for blood on the bandages while Steve grinned. 

“Not gonna leave him alone again,” Tony mumbled. It was actually amusing to watch stern James check on Steve while Steve was grinning and not taking it seriously. It was better than having a sad and broken Steve even if it was only the drugs. “Do you want me to get a nurse or a doctor?”

“I’d like a nurse, but I’ve already got two people checking me out,” Steve joked, laughing. Maybe he had pressed that button too many times in preparation for his trek across the hall. 

“Steve, shut up,” James said, but there was no fire behind it. He was smiling too. “Why can’t you be a good patient and sleep?” 

“‘M stubborn as an ass,” Steve told him. “That’s what ma says anyway.” He reached for Tony’s hand and James didn’t react beyond watching the interaction he’d never truly witnessed. 

Tony filled a glass with water and placed it on the table next to Steve’s bed before taking his hand. 

“Don’t do it again, alright? I told you before and I’ll tell you again: I have no problem chaining you to this bed,” he said with a small smile. “I’d rather not have to do that.” His voice was softer that time. 

“I have no problem with you chaining me to this bed,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He tried to sit up and winced. “Okay, that hurt.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” James said and then handed Steve the water he was ignoring. “Drink.” 

Tony shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And eat while you’re at it. Not enough food plus drugs in your system can’t be good.” He brought the tray over. There was some soup, half a sandwich and a fruit salad. “They said not too much at once.”

Steve started working on the sandwich, picking off small pieces and popping it into his mouth. 

James pulled Tony aside gently, far enough away that Steve couldn’t hear, and pretended like he was explaining something on Steve’s chart, keeping their backs to him. 

“Listen,” he began, having a slightly altered perspective on Steve and Tony together now that he had almost lost Steve. He figured he might as well help where he could. “There are three stages of Steve being drunk or under the influence of drugs,” he explained, knowing these details intimately. “Funny Steve, Dirty Steve and Sad Steve. It’s why he normally has one or two glasses of whiskey and rarely more if you’ve noticed. He knows how he is. He probably did _this_ on purpose.” He looked at Tony, trying to gauge his reaction. “Sad Steve is going to hit hard and it’s not going to be pretty. It always does, so now especially so. I can be here if you want, or I will let you handle it yourself. Up to you.” 

“Love,” Steve called and was it awkward that Tony and James both turned? Well, yes. Yes, it was. “No, that one,” Steve said and pointed an unsteady finger at Tony. He put a grape in his mouth, holding it between his teeth. “Want some fruit?” He said around the grape. 

“He’ll be there in a minute, Stevie. I’m just explaining your medicine schedule,” James said. Even though the doctor had already been in earlier to explain it to them all. He turned back and looked at Tony. “So?”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Tony said honestly and thought about it. He had seen Steve sad before and he would like to think that he was able to handle that. “I’ll handle it.” He was about to turn to Steve when he remembered a more important question. “Is it over?” 

“Alright,” James said, not confident in Tony’s ability but trusting his determination at least. “Yes.” 

Tony smiled and let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. It felt good to hear that from James directly. He nodded and turned back to Steve. "That's your food. Be good and eat it," he said with a small grin as he sat down on his bed. 

“I’ll be back in to check on you later, Stevie,” James said, giving him one last worried look and then a nod at Tony before leaving. 

“You were supposed to bite the grape out of my mouth, love,” Steve explained, that same goofy grin on his face. He’d been drifting between the first two Steves the last couple of minutes. He hadn’t fully gotten to dirty Steve, at least not to the extent that James remembered it. “Here, try this one,” he said, a piece of orange half in his mouth. He turned to Tony expectantly.

Tony waited for James to leave the room before he decided to play along and leaned in to bite the orange. How was he supposed to resist Steve when he hadn’t been able to kiss him for weeks? 

With half the orange in his mouth he leaned in to kiss Steve. At first it was a small kiss but before he could pull away Steve was already holding him in place to deepen the kiss hungrily. Tony gave in and kissed him back just the same. The longing, the relief, the confidence—it all mixed together and he poured it all into the kiss. 

Steve sighed into the kiss, one of his hands on the back of Tony’s head and the other on his back, sliding down quickly to the waistline of his trousers. Steve’s lips left Tony’s and moved to his neck, a light nip here and there with his teeth, a nibble on his earlobe. 

“If it weren’t for these stitches,” Steve said, his voice low and his words slightly slurred, “I’d take you right here on this bed.” He gripped a handful of Tony’s bottom, kissing his neck again.

Tony blushed a deep red color on his cheeks, his ears burning. He couldn’t give Steve the pleasure of knowing what it did to him and just how much he missed him too. Feeling his hand on his bottom did nothing to help his situation.

“Well,” Tony started and had to clear his throat. “The stitches are there for a reason.” He pulled away, gently tugging Steve’s hand away. “We’ll get there soon enough. For now I need you to focus on getting better.”

Steve whined, not ready to let go of Tony. “No, come on,” he complained. “Tony.” Rational Steve would’ve known it wasn’t a rejection but a protection. Doped up on morphine Steve couldn’t really tell the difference and it hit him like a punch to the gut. Everything mixed together, all his bad thoughts and feelings. 

He let go of Tony’s hand and slowly laid down, keeping his hands under his pillow, facing away from Tony because what he felt right then was too much. His chest aching and every breath hurt but not from his physical wounds. “Okay,” he said quietly, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t crack.

Tony rested a hand on Steve’s chest carefully. He didn’t think the mood would shift so suddenly. “Steve, _tesoro,_ look at me.” Patiently he waited for Steve to look at him, which took longer than he expected, and smiled softly at him. “Talk to me, hm?” He moved his hand to Steve’s face and gently caressed his cheek.

Steve felt awful. Like he needed a bath but the idea of getting out of his bed ever again was repulsive to him. Or he was just repulsive? 

He knew he missed Tony more than words could say but could he really not control himself? Maybe this level of perversion wasn’t right. Maybe he _was_ a little disgusting. 

“I’m just gonna sleep. You can go if you want,” Steve said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not going to leave you. Especially not if you look so sad,” he said and moved to kiss Steve’s forehead, his nose and then his lips. “But it would be good for you to sleep. You have a lot of healing to do.” Maybe Tony would nap a little. Once he was sure Steve was truly asleep. If he managed to fall asleep, that was. 

“No, I’m not tired,” he said roughly, throwing Tony’s hand off of him. He moved further away, curling in on himself as much as was possible with the bandages so tight. He wanted out of them, they were too restricting and he couldn’t breathe and everything was terrible. He sat up slowly, trying to pull at them, find where they started and unwrap them. He wanted them _off_.

“Hey, no!” Tony grabbed Steve’s hands. “Oh no you don’t.” He kept holding onto his hands no matter how much he struggled. He knew none of this was targeted at him and that made the whole situation bearable for Tony. “ _Steve_!” He said more forcefully when Steve wouldn’t give up. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself! Isn’t this bad enough for you? Shot, stabbed and beaten up?”

Steve was breathing hard, his hands shaking but he wasn’t sure from what. Tony was holding him by his wrists tightly, more strength in those hands than Steve expected. 

Was it enough for Steve? He wasn’t sure. Maybe there was more to why he was always putting himself between his men and danger. Why he went right back to work after being shot, throwing himself in the midst of everything. Why he got back up when he could’ve stayed down with Falsworth. Maybe he just never gave up, maybe he thought he deserved it. Maybe he danced a fine line between the two. 

Whatever was happening he was angry and there were little specks of blood on one of his bandages and it hurt, it really, really hurt. That only made him angrier, the morphine still running high in his system. He looked up at Tony, his face hard and closed off, his eyes cold. “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Tony was still holding onto Steve’s wrists and he swallowed hard to get his own emotions under control. This had nothing to do with him. He needed to be there for Steve. Work through these things. He told James he could do it and he would. Even if it was the last thing he did. 

“You’re not getting rid of me, Steve. I’m going to stay, whether you like it or not.” He let go of his wrists. There was no point in trying to talk some sense into him and Tony knew that, so he wouldn’t waste his breath. Instead he stared right back at Steve who looked like he was talking to a business partner who dared to talk back to him. Steve didn’t scare him. He didn’t break eye contact while wondering which of them was the more stubborn one. 

When Tony released his wrists, he snatched them back, still glaring. He wanted to be alone but Tony wouldn’t let him be. Again, rational Steve would’ve seen the love in action. This Steve saw it as another attack on him. 

“Fuck off, Tony, I don’t want you here,” he told him, his voice flat and hard. He reached for the morphine button again, maybe he would just keep clicking it until it ran out. Until he didn’t have to feel bad anymore because all the bad feelings he’d been bottling up since his own father was around up to now were suddenly rushing towards the surface and he was not about to deal with that sober. Or conscious, if he could help it.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek, telling himself for the hundredth time in the last couple of minutes that this wasn’t targeted at him. This wasn’t even his Steve. “You say and do whatever you need to. Get it out of your system. Throw it all at me, Steve. I don’t care. I will not leave you.” He walked to the drip and rolled it out of reach from Steve. “And you’ve had more than enough for now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Tony, just let me forget how fucked up I am for a few minutes, _goddammit_ ,” he swore, trying to reach for the drip again and yelping when he felt his skin tear, looking down at the blood spot growing larger on his bandages and seeping lightly through his hospital gown. “Fucking hell, just t-two minutes, just—“ He closed his eyes, flexing his jaw. His hand was on his middle and he was breathing hard again. It hurt so bad he could just curl up in a corner and cry. 

He lifted his free hand to his face, holding it there tightly and a sob broke through that shook his shoulders. He was gasping for breath as he cried into his hand, torn between the pain in his chest—the constant dull ache he always felt—and the pain of the torn stitches.

Tony was debating whether or not he should get a nurse to fix the stitches right away but there was a clear priority. He moved back to Steve’s bed and hugged his head close to his chest. 

“You’re not fucked up, Steve,” he whispered softly. There were so many things Tony was scared of—hurting Steve physically while holding him, not being what he needed emotionally and maybe really not being up to the task of taking care of Steve—but he took a deep breath and moved to sit down next to Steve and hold him in a more comfortable way while he cried. He wouldn’t allow Steve to push him away when he needed Tony the most. 

Steve didn’t respond, he couldn’t. Everything hurt too much and he didn’t believe him. Every time a sobbed tried to break free, he felt the burning tug of his destroyed stitches and it only made him want to cry more. Not because of the pain but the reminder of why he had the wounds in the first place.

Tony held him the whole time while Steve tried and failed to fight back tears. And he would continue to hold him for as long as Steve needed. Even after his sobs subsided and he was more or less able to breathe normally again, Tony held Steve close to him. Even when he heard soft snoring he continued to hold him to make sure he was really out. And only when he was truly convinced that Steve was fast asleep, he got up slowly to call a nurse. Somehow he wasn’t all too surprised to find James in front of the room. He had probably never left in the first place. Without saying a word to him he stopped the nearest nurse and told her that Steve had torn stitches and she went to look immediately. 

For a second he thought about talking to James and asking him what he could do. But then his stubbornness and pride kicked in, even if it wasn’t the right time or place. He wanted to be there for Steve. Without anyone’s help or advice. It was the least he could do for him. 

“He’s asleep. There’s no reason for you to stay,” Tony said and went back inside the room. 

“I’ll do what I damn well please but thanks a bunch for the update,” James said coldly, flipping through a book. There were no guards at Steve’s door, he’d sent them away, knowing what kinds of things were likely to come from Steve’s mouth and he wouldn’t be letting anyone hear that. Steve’s private life was just that—private. 

For a second longer Tony hesitated but decided against asking James anything and closed the door behind him. Inside he helped the nurse with the bandages and holding Steve. He was completely out of it. And when the nurse asked if Tony knew how much morphine he had taken, Tony shrugged. There was a limit, which Steve luckily hadn’t reached yet. It was still enough to keep him sleeping while the nurse was injecting numbing medicine and stitching him up again. It was only then that Tony noticed that he was dressed in his casual wear that he only wore around the house. If that didn’t describe how fast everything went, he didn’t know what would. 

With the rest of the unfinished food in front of him, Tony sat back down in the chair and ate slowly. He truly hoped Steve would feel better soon. For his own sake and not Tony’s. 

While Steve slept, Tony walked around the room to keep himself from falling asleep. He looked outside, sat on the one couch and then on the other. He got more terrible coffee and walked around some more. There was nothing he could do. 

James sat outside the room listening to Tony pace and move around. He didn’t bother looking up when Tony left and came back with coffee, he had nothing to say to him so why bother? He just kept reading his book on American Sign Language and worrying about Steve. 

It was almost a good three hours before Steve woke up again. His mouth was dry and he felt like he’d been hit squarely in the face. His lower abdomen was killing him and he pulled the collar of the hospital gown away from him to look into it and see fresh bandages. He had a foggy memory of what happened but enough to know he owed Tony a hell of an apology. 

Steve found those eyes he loved so much a few seconds after waking and he was deeply, deeply ashamed. “I wanted to forget for a while. The first part is always fun, the second part… not so much. Tony, I am so sorry.” He wouldn’t say he didn’t mean any of it because he’d meant all of it. Not that he didn’t want Tony around but just that he wanted to be left alone.

As soon as he heard Steve moving, Tony was right next to his bed and looked at him in relief. He had more color in his face. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said and reached for Steve’s hand and kissed it softly. “A lot has happened. I can't even begin to imagine how you must feel.” Tony was very happy to hear his Steve again, even though he looked so sad and tired. He leaned down and pressed a loving kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Let me get you something to drink. You must be parched.”

“Just some water, please,” he said, still trying to remember everything he said. When Tony returned, Steve spoke again. “I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have done that in the first place.”

He helped Steve to drink his water and set down the empty glass next to him. “Doesn’t matter, _tesoro_ ,” he said lovingly. “I still love you and nothing will change that.” He winked.

“I love you too, Tony. So, so much.” He would get over it all. Put it past him. Or at least that’s what he told himself. In reality, he would shove it down with everything else and ignore it because this was the version of himself he wanted to give Tony all the time. Not the sad shell of a man Steve, this Steve. He looked towards the hall, just knowing James was out there but he didn’t comment on it. “You should sleep,” he said, reaching up to touch Tony’s face. “You’ve been here too long. I doubt you slept even a wee bit.”

Tony leaned into Steve’s touch and shook his head. “I won’t leave you. I’m glad I could be there for you,” he answered honestly. “Though I should call _zia_ and give her an update. Or do you think James did that too?” He half-expected James to enter the room when Tony said his name. 

There were footsteps outside and then the two normal guards were back at Steve’s door which meant James was gone. They closed the door to give them their privacy.

“I don’t know if he did or not. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you anyway.” 

“She’d be even happier if she heard from the both of us,” Tony said and went to the phone on the side table. The cable was long enough to reach to Steve’s bed. 

At first he started dialing Steve’s number. “ _Ah force of habit_.” He hung up and dialed the correct number. After only two rings Sarah answered and Tony gave Steve the phone so he would be the first thing Sarah heard. 

Steve froze for a second when Tony handed him the phone and then spoke, “Hey, ma.” 

“Hi, pet, I wasn’t expecting a call from you. Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah… Tony just thought we should update you,” he said, feeling very uncomfortable. All he could focus on was his drug-induced mental breakdown so he hastily handed the phone back to Tony. She didn’t know Steve got the way he did when he was drunk or high. She’d never seen him be either. She didn’t know Steve felt so broken deep down inside and he would keep it that way. 

Tony took the phone and spoke to Sarah for a minute, hearing her relief made him feel better too. 

“If you’d like I can bring you fresh clothes and some proper food,” she said and Tony knew it was less about him and more about her seeing Steve. Tony looked back to Steve who looked uncomfortable. Given his reaction from earlier he decided against it for now. 

“Maybe tonight. For now everything is fine.” He smiled and after another small exchange he hung up, put the phone back where he got it from and went back to Steve’s side. “Anything you need? Nurse, meds, food?”

Steve shook his head and felt he should explain. “She’s never seen that side of me,” he said, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders and resting his head on top of Tony’s. He sighed, closing his eyes. “No, I don’t need anything. I’m fine. You need food? I promise I won’t leave my bed if you do.” 

“And you think she’d be bothered?” Tony asked, glad to feel Steve like he did. “I know you won’t but let me enjoy this for another minute or two.” He closed his eyes. He couldn’t rely on Steve and he knew that. He needed to be strong for him. But his arm around Tony’s shoulder made him feel all the things he missed the past few weeks. 

“Not bothered. Worried. She doesn’t need to worry about me more than she does.” Steve held Tony closer, not sure what he meant. “I am enjoying this too.” 

This was what he’d fought for, was determined to survive for. Not what, _who_. Holding Tony now grounded him, helped remind him why nothing else mattered. If what he was and how he felt was wrong, he didn’t care. He was worth being wrong. “You’re still mine,” Steve said, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Of course I am,” Tony said, feeling dangerously heavy. He couldn’t fall asleep. “Let me check on Dugan and Jones real quick.” He got up and headed out of the room. The other men were up and eating when Tony came in.

Seeing as neither of them were bed bound like Steve he invited them over to talk to him and they accepted gladly. The bandages had been changed and wounds looked at. That only left food for them on Tony’s list. It had been a long day and Tony felt the weight of everything on his shoulders. Before he could focus on that or exhaustion he headed off to get food for them, giving the men some time alone with Steve. 

“Hey, Cap, you look like shite.” 

“Gentle as a hailstorm, ay, Duggie?” Steve said with a chuckle. 

“He get you pretty bad, Cap?” Jones asked, his eyes roving over Steve. Steve shrugged. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He wasn’t about to go through the list of injuries, he wouldn’t do that to Jones. 

“That lad’s dead set on taking good care of you, isn’t he?” Dugan asked. Steve looked towards the hallway and smiled. 

“He is.” 

“He’s a good one, Cap. I’m happy for you,” Dugan said and Jones agreed. 

Steve sighed deeply. “I’m just happy to have the two of you and don’t get used to me being this soft with ya.” 

They waved him away, rolling their eyes. “Too late,” Jones laughed and then he sobered, reaching out to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re alright.” Steve patted his hand as Tony came back in. Dugan watched the way Steve’s eyes followed him, lovingly, like Tony was simultaneously the best and most precious person on earth. And to Steve he was.

“It’s no whiskey but I thought apple juice is better than nothing,” Tony joked lightly as he poured the four of them the juice and handed everyone a glass. They chatted about terrible hospital food, uncomfortable beds and their need to sleep in their own beds again and Tony was glad they were able to talk about anything other than what happened and their injuries.

After their second round of apple juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. 

“Oh hello.” Tony smiled and hugged his brother. The boy was absolutely delighted to have most of his favorite people in one room together. While he talked to the other three, Tony went to Sarah and she hugged him immediately. He hugged her back and enjoyed the familiar warmth. Their Steve was alright. 

“Now, I hope you haven’t eaten. I brought enough for all of you. Dmitri is just getting proper dishes for everything,” Sarah said and started unpacking boxes full of delicious smelling food. 

“I have eaten but I will eat again and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me,” Dugan said, patting his stomach. Steve chuckled. 

Dmitri came to the door, another man just out of sight, with him. 

“I know my way home, I don’t need a ride but thanks, pal,” he said, patting Dmitri’s shoulder and leaving. James entered the room with Dmitri, a smile on his face, so whoever the man was, he must have been with both of them. 

“Hello, _maya dorogaya_ ,” James said, kissing Sarah’s cheek and she kissed his back. She lifted her eyebrows, asking him a silent question and he nodded. She made an impressed face and he chuckled. 

Benni smiled at James who waved at him, a smile on his own face.

Dmitri gave them all plates, James setting up the tray table for Steve and while he truly hated being the only one in a bed, he dealt with it when James gave him a knowing look. Steve jerked his head towards the hallway, raising his eyebrows like his mother did. “Tell you another time,” James said. 

Sarah and Benni served the food and soon everyone was eating peacefully. James and Dmitri each perched on an arm of the couch that Benni and Sarah shared. Dugan and Jones shared their own and for a while, it felt like a nice family meal. Unorthodox circumstances, but nice nonetheless. 

“Anyone want to suggest some party games?” Dugan asked and got a laugh from everyone. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone’s home.

It was two weeks later and Tony was working on the receipts Dugan had brought over. Steve was bored out of his mind and this was the only way to keep him somewhat happy. It didn’t always work—like right now—but it usually did the trick.

When Steve groaned for the second time in ten minutes, Tony set the papers aside and looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t do inactivity well,” he said, leaning his head back. The doctors said he had another four weeks. When he tried to protest, Sarah had all but threatened him so he shut up. “Four weeks is an awfully long time to do nothing.” 

Tony ran a hand over his face and got up. 

_You’re not doing nothing. You’re healing_ , had been what Tony replied to that for the past few days but he found it didn’t really work at all. So he moved half the office to the hospital room, which Sarah didn’t like either, but between Sarah and Steve and his own boredom, Tony chose what would make the majority of them somewhat happy. 

“I know,” he said and went to Steve’s side. “What can I do to help?” He asked. 

Steve looked over at him and felt even worse. Not only was he doing nothing but the only something he could actually say he _was_ doing was annoying Tony who was being so good about it and so patient with him. Steve knew he was being childish. He just needed to grow up and accept that he would be in that hospital bed for another month. 

Doing absolutely nothing. What good was a mob boss who couldn’t be a boss? Who was he supposed to intimidate in an ass-out hospital gown? 

“Nothing,” he said, forcing a smile. “You being here is enough.” Tony had all but recreated Steve’s office right there in the hospital room. He’d brought Steve books and he went over the accounts with him more than once, purely—Steve knew—to make Steve feel like he was contributing something. Dugan reported back every single detail to Steve and asked for his approval and advice on things Steve knew full well he didn’t need them on. The coddling was somehow worse than the inactivity but Steve felt like a flaming pile of shit for even thinking that, let alone telling them to stop because it was what he wanted, right? 

Steve lifted up the copy of Alice in Wonderland and shook it. “I’ll read. Thanks for bringing this.” He opened it to his bookmark and started reading. 

Tony looked carefully at Steve. Once he had figured out what to look out for—the way he clenched his jaw, the position of his shoulders and the way he looked at him—he could tell when Steve’s mood was shifting. His face didn’t give it away but the smaller details did. 

How he hated it that his words were the reason why Steve’s mood had changed from bad to worse. 

“You know... you don’t have to put up that front with me,” he said and placed a hand on top of the book. “You just found your match in stubbornness and hot-headedness.” 

Steve barked out a laugh. “I’m not so sure ma would agree with that.” He dropped the book onto his lap and took Tony’s hand instead, the smile gone already. He looked up at him. “It’s not you, ya know. You’ve just done so much to make things more bearable for me, I can’t stand to seem ungrateful.” 

“Yeah, Sarah doesn’t know.” Tony smiled and kissed his cheek softly. “You’re not ungrateful, I get that you’re bored. I’m just at a loss here, okay?” 

“I… I’m not bored,” he told him, “I feel _useless_.” He sighed. He knew it would only worry Tony to hear him say that but he was determined to tell the truth. 

How did he explain that it wasn’t a matter of having nothing to do but doing nothing of importance? 

Still holding his hand, Tony sat down as close to Steve as he could and nodded. This was progress. Something he had been longing for and now he didn’t know what to do or what to say. 

“Because you have to heal? And you’re not able to do things?” Tony asked. It made sense. Steve was a very hands-on busy man who didn’t have a lot of downtime. “You’re going to be back at work sooner than you know. Can’t you at least try and enjoy some rest?” 

Steve smirked. “Why do I get the feeling someone has said that to _you_ before?” He remembered very clearly hearing his mother and himself tell Tony something similar when he was recovering. He just—like with most of his own advice—didn’t apply it to himself. 

“The difference is that you like what you’re doing. You like the responsibility and going out there, which is why you’re missing it. For me it was a force of habit. Right now there isn’t a lot to do apart from the things Dugan, Jones and I are covering. And you know this, Steve.” 

Steve sighed deeply. “Yeah, I do.” He picked the book up again. “I’ll just do some reading.” 

Without a single doubt in his mind, the worst time, his lowest mood drops, were when he needed to use the bathroom. Tony—sometimes James—had to help him get out of the bed because he was trying really hard not to tear anymore stitches. Then they supported him to the toilet because apparently he couldn’t walk seven feet anymore. From there he could work things out on his own. Now. In the earlier weeks there had been some difficulty in trying to get the hospital gown up while positioning everything else. 

Now, as Tony wrapped an arm around him and they walked to the bathroom, Steve was angry and frustrated with himself for being so helpless. Rationally he knew he needed help so he could heal faster but Steve Rogers was not a man known for his rationality. 

“I got it from here,” he snapped, moving away from Tony and into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. 

He loved Tony, he did, and it wasn’t that he felt like they needed space apart but he was just tired of not being able to do things by himself. 

“Can barely feckin’ piss on my own,” he grumbled under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t mad at Tony and he needed to make that clear to him when he came out of the bathroom. 

As he came out, Tony was stood there, loyal as ever, waiting on him and he wrapped his arms around him and helped him back to bed. He thanked him and apologized and Tony said it was no big deal like he always did and that only made Steve feel worse being for an asshole, so he got in bed and started reading again. Or rather, staring at the same page and pretending to flip for two hours, deep in his head thinking about other things.

There wasn’t anything Tony wouldn’t do to help Steve and yet it felt like he wasn’t doing enough. And maybe Steve really thought Tony wasn’t noticing how he never turned a single page in his book, or how he stared blankly at walls, or how frustrated he got when he had to use the bathroom, needed some cleaning or changing of bandages and his gown.

Tony looked over the receipts that Dugan had brought and frowned. There it was again. Plus a note from Dugan saying he had no information about the account either and only did it because Steve told him to do so. 

Tony took the piece of paper together with the reports from past weeks and carried them to Steve.

“When you’re done pretending to read, I have a question for you.”

“Guess I’m done,” Steve said bitterly, tossing the book onto the table beside the bed. “What is it?”

Tony didn’t even bother to comment on Steve’s behavior with words or his facial expression. Instead he placed the papers on Steve’s lap. “This account here. Dugan takes part of the money—20.25 if you want to know—every week and puts it in this account with no name. Every week for about four, nearly five months now. Which means more than $500 is in an account that doesn’t even exist in these books. They’re my books, Steve. Someone planned for this to go unnoticed. So either I’m no better than your last accountant or this is your doing.”

Steve stared at the papers on his lap. He knew there was something he meant to keep an eye on with Tony and the accounts but so much had happened that it had slipped his mind. He looked up at Tony and said plainly. “I did that.” 

“I don’t understand. Your accounts are all safe and there’s no need to keep this little money every week?” With everything everyone was still paying, the accounts were good. 

“It serves a purpose,” he said, reaching for his book so he could stare at the word ‘rabbit’ for an hour again. “Leave it be.” 

“If you don’t want me to do your books anymore, that’s fine, you know.” It was a statement and not a question. Was he doubting Tony? Why would this kind of money even be worth Steve’s time when he had a lot more in different accounts all safely tucked away? 

Tony collected the papers, not caring for the right order. How he just wanted to toss them on the floor and leave. Instead he took them back to the others and threw them onto a pile, letting himself fall on the couch. 

Steve watched him. A part of him felt bad and another part had to bite back a smile at his frustrated and dramatic little fella. 

Steve put his book down and said, quiet but firm, “It’s for you.” 

From where Tony was sitting he looked at Steve, his brows furrowed, feeling more frustrated than he cared to admit. “What is? The fake account for me to notice? Some kind of test to see how long it would take me?”

“No, love,” he said, more gentle than he’d been in a few days. “The money. It’s for you. I started saving it a few months back. Before you came to stay. I was trying to keep it under the radar long enough to give it a name on May 29th: Antonio Stark.” 

Tony sat up straight and looked at Steve. He started several sentences but no sound came from his mouth. “But—” He looked at the papers in front of him. “That’s—” His heart almost stopped beating when he did the math in his head. “That…” He wrote down the number but it did nothing to help him clear his mind. “But... why?” He asked, completely out of breath and unable to move, the pencil still in his hand. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to do once you were better. You know I’d have provided you someplace else to stay until you got back on your feet but I wanted to make sure that in the near future, you’d be more than secure. If I couldn’t keep you, I’d make sure you were alright wherever you went.” He was giving Tony a small smile. He loved the expressions going across Tony’s face. 

“And... you kept doing this even after giving me a home? A job? Everything I could ever ask for? Thinking I’d change my mind?” He dropped the pen and rubbed both hands over his face. 

He remembered sitting on his bedroom floor with the box in front of him, the money neatly put in small piles. $26.38. That had been all his money in the world. When he hadn’t eaten properly in days, while his brother was shivering from the cold. 

And now Steve told him he had several hundred dollars in an account for himself. And he didn’t have to lift a finger. Didn’t risk a beating. While he could sleep comfortably and had time to read books and do things with his brother, Pepper, and Steve. 

Steve nodded. “I wanted you to choose where you went. Of course I had my preferences but I didn’t want to influence you. That’s why I kept my distance at times. That’s why I let you know you could leave. That’s why I asked you—still ask you—if this is what you want,” he said, using a finger to gesture to himself and Tony. “I love you and I’ll love you wherever you are. I just want you to be happy.”

Tony was caught between laughing and crying over Steve‘s words. He wiped his eyes and got up to go back to Steve.

“You’re an idiot sometimes, Steve,” Tony said with a small chuckle and took Steve’s hand. “And you’re mine. I don’t... with or without the money, the house and everything else. I’d stay. Because I love _you_.” He gently poked his index finger into Steve’s chest right above his heart. 

“Well,” he said, pulling Tony in for a hug—no kiss, no feeling up, just a hug—and whispering in his ear, “I don’t think you know how glad that makes me.” He held him for a while longer, just hugging him, his eyes shut and face buried in his neck. This was good. Perhaps this was what Steve needed. Just a good, long hug from the man he loved.

Tony rested against Steve, making sure he didn’t put all his weight on him. His eyes filled with tears, even though they were closed, and he had to laugh at himself and this whole situation. “I love you so much and I hate the stitches more than I can say,” he whispered softly. 

“Oh, love, when I finally get _these_ things off, I’ll be all over you,” he said, pressing kisses into his hair and on his neck. James had guessed this already but a lot of Steve’s short temper and easy irritation was pent up sexual frustration. Getting those stitches off and finally getting to be together with his boyfriend was going to do a world of good for his mood. 

Four weeks. A month. That’s how much longer he had to go but it was finally over and Steve felt like a brand new man. He stretched, gently though because the skin was still a little tender, and headed for the door on his way out. He was healed enough that he’d been cleared for light activity and best of all, he could go home. 

James was waiting there, sipping a coffee. “You look good, Stevie.” 

“I feel good.” James extended a hand and Steve looked at it, considering slapping it away and hugging him but he chose instead to respect what he was offered and he shook James’ hand. “Thank you.” 

“I know we didn’t hug but thanking me is just you being ridiculous,” he told him, turning to the car that was waiting for Steve. Steve had lied to Tony. He told him he was coming home tomorrow and he had Dugan and Sarah keep him busy for the morning while Jones slipped out to pick him up. 

“See ya around?” 

“Of course.” 

“You gonna introduce me to your new friends?” He asked, noticing the kiss mark on James’ neck. Rarely did James let one-nighters leave marks on him so that meant this was more than a one time thing. 

James smiled. “Soon. They’re some amazing people.” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “More than one?” 

“More than one friend. Just one more-than-friend,” he said, and crossed his arms over his chest now that they were stood at the car. 

“Hey, Cap, Winter,” Jones said. 

“Jones,” James greeted him with a nod. 

“Good to see ya,” Steve told him, clapping a hand on his back. He had been doing all the driving lately seeing as Dugan’s arm was still in a cast for another week.

When they got to the house, Steve sighed in relief. Still cautious as ever, he entered through his office and in any case, that’s where Tony was. He knocked on his office door and the Dugan yelled, “come in!” 

Steve opened it slowly. Tony’s back was to him and he grinned. His mother sat in a chair in the corner drinking tea and Dugan and Tony were working on mapping out their territory and plans for expansion. 

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Dugan said as Tony turned around.

“Hey, love,” he said, smiling at him sweetly, no longer bandaged and feeling broken, but standing tall, his hair combed and looking sharp in a freshly pressed suit.

Tony was still in thought about what he was talking about with Dugan while turning around. Seeing Steve standing there like he owned the whole world, radiating confidence and looking absolutely gorgeous, Tony fell in love with him all over again. 

“Welcome home,” he greeted him, still in awe of seeing him standing there. “I’m guessing you all knew he was coming home early? And this was just a distraction?” He asked and looked at Dugan who grinned ever so slightly. 

Tony pushed himself off the table he was leaning against and walked to Steve who was still grinning at him. Not too sure of how much pain he’d still be in, Tony hugged him carefully until Steve wrapped his arms tightly around him. “It’s so good to see you up and in a suit again,” he said softly, taking a deep breath. There was still the lingering scent of hospital and sanitizer but there was also Steve’s cologne and his soap. It took him some effort and convincing himself to pull away and take a step back. Steve was back. And he was wearing too much. 

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and adjusted his pants and the way he stood. This was not good. 

“We were looking at our map just now. The lad had some ideas,” Dugan said from where he was standing. 

“Let him come home first,” Sarah said and put her cup down with a smile. “There’s plenty of food ready for you.” Tony moved to stand behind the couch to calm his fast beating heart and his treacherous body that was way too sensitive when it came to Steve. 

Steve watched Tony and chuckled, catching his eye, a smirk on his face. Steve went to stand right beside him, not to make matters worse, but because he’d spent too long not able to decide how close he was going to be to Tony. Now that freedom to be as close to him as he wanted was his and he was going to take advantage. 

The table was set and they took their seats, Steve holding Sarah and Tony’s hands for grace. Steve ate like there was no tomorrow. The hospital food was ugh and even though Sarah had brought home cooking and other delicious treats, there was nothing like eating at your own table in your own house with it hot and fresh. 

When dinner was over, they talked for a minute, no more, and then Steve had Tony pressed against his bedroom wall. Sarah had knowingly said she’d stay downstairs with Benni and read a couple more hours and take care of the boy. 

As soon as Tony was pressed against the wall by Steve he forgot about everything else while Steve got rid of their clothes very quickly. Every now and then he looked at Tony for permission before getting rid of his underwear or touching him and everytime Tony couldn’t do more than nod, which was more than enough for Steve. Soon they were on the Steve’s bed, both completely naked, Steve’s lips all over Tony’s body and Tony’s hands all over Steve’s. He felt all kinds of scars, tracing each one carefully until he touched one that made Steve wince. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled between heavy breaths. “S-Steve... Are you sure you’re okay?” Tony asked, his mind foggy, barely able to form a whole sentence. Still he was present enough to worry about him, no matter what the circumstances. 

“I promise you, love,” he said, kissing up his side, “I’m alright. Doc cleared me.” He couldn’t get enough of Tony, every spot he kissed was hot and perfect and every sound made and reaction he had just made things even better. He had wanted this for way too long and now to finally be getting it? Steve couldn’t imagine it any better than it was.

Tony hummed in agreement and closed his eyes again. Feeling Steve against his body was easily Tony’s favorite feeling he had ever experienced. 

There was a lot Steve wanted to do to him. A lot he couldn’t though either because he really was supposed to restrain himself to light activity and because he wasn’t sure yet how much Tony could handle sexually. He knew he was strong, resilient, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted roughness in so many aspects of his life. He would ask, but maybe next time. 

Steve rubbed their hips together, the best friction on the planet, and he moaned against Tony’s chest. He grabbed the bottle of oil and then put it back down, deciding that as much as he wanted this, he would take the time to explain to Tony what was going to happen. 

He sat up, looking down at Tony’s beautiful body, leaning forward to run his hands over it before he spoke. He explained to Tony exactly what he was about to do and Tony nodded weakly. Steve smirked and grabbed the oil again, dousing his hand. He went slowly, just one finger to start and Tony gasped. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, freezing where he was. 

Tony’s first instinct was to move away but after only a few seconds he convinced his body to stay where he was. “I’m... fine,” he said, breathless as looked at Steve. He wanted him. And he was right there. “It’s alright,” he told him again. 

Steve nodded and added another, following the same procedure of asking Tony after each finger and Tony would look a little surprised but confirm he was good to go. Steve stopped at three and gradually things got a little easier and Tony looked a lot more comfortable. 

“Okay,” Steve said, and he pulled his hand away, angling himself better and slowly, snail-speed slow, sliding in just a little. He knew it was different and he stopped, his self-control off the charts at this point, to ask Tony again if he was okay. “If you can’t talk, just nod or shake your head.” 

It wasn’t so much the stinging or the slight discomfort Tony was feeling, but the heat that surrounded him and was now pressing into him as well. For a brief moment he wondered if this was normal and healthy but that thought was quickly discarded. He forced his eyes open for just a second and what he was seeing was worth everything. He simply nodded and moved his hips slightly, gasping when he felt Steve even deeper. 

“More,” he moaned, grabbing the sheets under him. 

Steve obeyed easily and soon but slowly, Tony was taking all of Steve. Even Steve had to pause when that happened, seeing stars in his vision, his body hit with an intense wave of pleasure. He swore in Gaelic, positioning himself better again, finding where to hold his hands on either side of Tony’s thighs and even slower than before, he began to move.

The fact that it was him who made Steve curse in Gaelic turned Tony on even more. Just when he thought that wasn’t possible. He leaned up to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck to pull him closer as he moved himself against Steve, trying to silently encourage him to thrust. Well, not silently but without actual words. It didn’t take much for him to feel close and he hated and loved it at the same time. 

“Steve...” He gasped, arching his back off the bed. Before he could find the words to say what he wanted to, he came moaning Steve’s name. He was still coming down, feeling Steve’s hand stroking him slowly and noticing how he was pulling out of him. “Don’t… stop.”

“It’ll hurt,” Steve said softly. 

“Don’t. I want it,” Tony promised and looked at Steve. 

Steve was close to his limit of how turned on he could be by Tony. He thought seeing what he just had would have been the top, the most, but Tony telling him to go on, that he wanted Steve… 

Steve huffed, holding Tony even more firmly and he started a steady rhythm, watching Tony gasp and grimace and he wanted to stop but Tony again told him not to. He sped up and lost himself a little, his fingers digging into Tony’s thighs, one giving him a rough slap on the leg. 

Steve was not known by any of his previous partners to be a soft or gentle man. He was normally described as a bit of a monster but in the _best_ possible way. 

He was cursing up a storm as he felt the telltale signs that he was close, never taking his eyes off Tony under him. He slapped his thigh again and seconds later he came, nearly doubling over, his forehead on Tony’s chest, his hips still moving, twitching, but slowing. Another few seconds and Tony came a second time. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” were all the words Steve could manage during the come down. Reluctantly, he pulled out of him and collapsed beside him, a hot mess. He was breathing hard and he looked over to check on Tony. 

“Are… you oh… okay?” He asked, panting. “Too much?” He threw a hand over to land on Tony’s forehead, moving his hair away from his sweaty skin and brushing a thumb over his eyebrow. Tony was so beautiful. 

Unable to move more than turning his head and looking at Steve, panting heavily, he smiled weakly. “So good,” he whispered. 

There was some stinging pain on his thigh from where Steve had slapped him and a sore spot where his nail had dug into Tony’s skin, not to mention that he felt every muscle in his lower back burn. But he felt absolutely amazing. “So good,” he repeated and closed his eyes again. 

When he could, he moved again to Tony’s leg and inspected the damage, knowing he had gotten caught up. He pressed kisses to the redder places and breathed quiet “I’m sorrys” against his leg, finally resting his head on Tony’s thigh, too comfortable and too tired to move again.

Tony couldn’t quite grasp why Steve was sorry and he was too exhausted to ask. He simply lifted a hand to rest on Steve’s head and gently combed through his sweaty hair as he was drifting off to sleep, feeling comfortable, warm and satisfied. 

Steve was so close to dosing but he instead dragged himself out of bed to clean them up and once that was done, he flopped back down beside Tony, his head on Tony’s chest, ear right on his heart, and he was out like a light, snoring softly. 

When Tony woke up he found it difficult to move from an unusual weight on his chest. Usually he would move around in his sleep, if he was able to sleep through the night without waking up at least once or twice, but after last night he had been able to sleep through the night and without moving even a little. He rested one hand on Steve’s back, feeling his heartbeat against his palm and the other combed through Steve’s soft blond hair.

They hadn’t been together in this house for nearly two months. For awhile he wasn’t even able to see Steve. He couldn’t touch him. And now they were back together at home. 

“ _I love you so much, Steve. You have no idea what you mean to me_ ,” Tony whispered softly in Italian. “ _I’m so glad you’re back here with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you. Nothing would make sense without you._ ”

While they had been apart, Tony was constantly afraid that he would get the message that Steve was dead. That he would never see him again. That thought frightened him more than he could say. Not once had he mentioned this fear to anyone and now in the safety of the dark and with Steve sleeping soundly on him, Tony allowed himself to let go of those fears. “ _I was so scared,_ ” he whispered, his voice breaking. “ _You’re my whole world. I don’t want to live without you._ ” 

Steve smirked against Tony’s skin, inhaling deeply and loving that he could be right where he was without any worries or fears. “I love you too,” he said, “the rest you’ll have to translate for me.” His eyes were still closed and he tightened his grip on Tony, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

Tony chuckled, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Why was crying so typical of him? 

“I said that you have no idea what you mean to me. And that I wouldn’t have anything left if you weren’t here. You’re my whole world,” he translated. “ _Sei il mio intero mondo._ ” He repeated in Italian. 

“ _Il mio intero mondo,”_ Steve copied, liking how that sounded. “I’m starting to get a vague idea that you like me.” He was grinning now, chuckling against Tony’s chest. “ _Is tú mo chuisle_ ,” Steve said softly. 

Tony smiled at Steve’s Italian. He loved the way he pronounced the words. A part of him wanted to teach Steve Italian until he was fluent. Another wanted him to keep his beautiful accent forever. 

“I love Gaelic,” Tony said with a smile and shifted a little, wincing when the small movement reminded him of how sore he was. 

“It means ‘you are my pulse,” he explained, remembering hearing Tony’s name as Falsworth stood over him, each heartbeat ‘To-ny’. He didn’t wince at the memory but it did make him hold Tony even tighter. “And it’s true. As vital to my existence as it is, so are you.” 

Steve was quiet for a moment, his mouth moving around words he couldn’t quite form.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching down and touching Tony’s leg with featherlight fingertips. He leaned up to pull the covers away and see the slightly bruised, hand-shaped marks and memories of too-tight grips. Steve sucked in a breath and felt a little sick to his stomach. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. He’d promised Tony so many months ago to never lay a wrong hand on him. Sure this was not the usual circumstances that Tony got bruises from but still, it felt so wrong to see them on him again and because of Steve, no less. 

Tony blushed for some irrational reason when Steve pulled the covers away. After last night there was really no reason anymore, was there? At first he didn’t understand what Steve was apologizing for. 

“Steve,” he said and gently lifted his head for him to look at Tony. “You didn’t hurt me. You could never.” He shook his head. “It felt good.”

Steve was shaking his head too. “I got lost in the moment,” he said, “I’m glad you enjoyed it but I don’t ever want to see bruises on you from my anyone’s hands ever again and especially not my hands.”

“He’s dead, Steve,” Tony said flatly and shrugged. “It’s only a painful memory.” That was a half-lie, considering he still woke up seeing it and thinking he’d find Howard standing behind him. But then he would recognize the surroundings and know that he was we safe. “Last night was amazing.”

“Alright,” Steve said simply. He wouldn’t press it but he would also still be careful. One day, when this was far behind them, he would stop holding back but for now he would not. “Last night _was_ amazing,” he agreed. “So, I’m taking off work today, what about you, love?”

“I just learned that my boss isn’t coming in. Guess I’m having me an off day too,” he said with a grin.

Steve chuckled, and started pressing kisses on his chest again. “I’m your boss, huh?” he asked, his voice low and breath hot against Tony’s skin. 

“Well, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Mr Rogers, sir,” he whispered. 

Steve shuddered, breathing out shakily. He moved up and turned Tony’s head towards him, kissing him deeply, his eyes shut. He pulled away and kissed the tip of his nose and his lips again. “You catch on fast,” he said, kissing him again, his tongue moving along Tony’s bottom lip.

“You really thought I wouldn’t?” He asked in a deep voice, gently biting Steve’s lower lip when he got the chance.

“No, but I really hoped you would,” he said against his ear, biting his earlobe and moving down his neck.

“You know… if you make me wake your mother, that’s on you.” It was an embarrassing idea and that was exactly why he didn't want it to happen. 

He licked in the hollow part of Tony’s collarbone and laughed. “Hopefully that won’t be the only thing on me.”

“ _Tesoro_ , if you agree to carry me around all day, you can do whatever you want to me. As much as you want to,” he whispered in his ear. 

“You really need to work on your negotiation tactics. You’re supposed to demand something I _don’t_ want to do,” Steve told him, still wreaking havoc on Tony’s neck with his lips, teeth and tongue.

He rolled his head and moaned, turning his head to give Steve better access to his neck. 

“I... really don’t want you to turn me on,” he said and bit his own lower lip. “Or touch me. Stop touching me,” he joked weakly. “Steve, just use me, please.”

Steve laughed and then got to the end of Tony’s last statement and moaned against his neck, feeling those words all the way to his core. “Bloody hell, love,” he sighed, his hands roaming over Tony’s chest. He was losing himself in Tony again, getting drunk off of him and he needed to ask one more question before he was too far gone. “Are you sure you’re not too sore?” 

“I told you, as long as you carry me around, I’ll be fine,” he said impatiently. “Come on, Mr Rogers. Don’t make me beg.”

Steve didn’t even say anything besides moaning. He got up and easily lifted Tony to turn him onto his stomach, pressing kisses down his neck, his back, across his ass, all the way down to the back of his knees and up again. 

It was almost an hour later that Steve rolled away from Tony, breathless, exhausted, sore and his wounds just a little achy. 

“Love, you alright?”

“Yes,” was all he managed to say, lying on his stomach and trying to catch his breath. He was sore but absolutely satisfied and happy that he was able to give Steve that. If his body allowed he’d continue but even Steve seemed to have reached his limits. He loved to see him exhausted like that, the sweat rolling down his chest and his forehead. There was nothing more beautiful to Tony. “Steve?” He smiled. “I love you.” 

Steve smiled back. “I love you too, Tony.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, leaving comments and just being so loyal and sticking with us for the past 17 weeks. This has been such a blast to write and post and your feedback has really kept BlanketOfDeath and I going! 💙
> 
>   
> ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️  
> P.S. A companion/second fic in this series has been written centering around James. It picks up where James “disappears” in this fic and explores what happens during his away time as well as his new relationship. It’s called “All Or Nothing At All.”

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's curious, I, im95notdead, wrote Steve, James, Dugan, Dmitri 
> 
> BlanketOfDeath wrote Tony, Benni, Howard, Pepper 
> 
> And the others we shared

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Touch in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556382) by [TheVengeance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVengeance/pseuds/TheVengeance)




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